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ROBERT CADELL EDLNBURGa^lVHrilXAKER. & CT LOSTDON. 
183 >. 



MARMION, 

A TALE OF 

FLODDEN FIELD. 

BY 

SIR WALTER SCOTT, Bart. 



IN SIX CANTOS. 



Alas ! that Scottish maid should sing 
The combat where her lover fell ! 

That Scottish bard should wake the string 
The triumph of our foes to tell ! 

Leyden. 



ROBERT CADELL, EDINBURGH. 



M.DCCC.XXXV. 




TRs 3 



EDINBURGH : 
PRINTKD BY T. CONSTABLE, 1, THISTLE STREET. 



CONTENTS. 



Notice, iii 

Introduction to Marmion, 1 

M ARM ION. 

Introduction to Canto I. — To William Stew- 
art Rose, Esq. 15 

Canto I. The Castle, 28 

Introduction to Canto II.— To the Rev. John 

Marriott, A.M 49 

II. The Convent, 60 

Introduction to Canto III. — To Willtam Er- 

skine, Esq 85 

III. The Hostel, or Inn, ..... 95 
Introduction to Canto IV.— To James Skene, 

Esq 119 

IV. The Camp, 128 

Introduction to Canto V. — To George Ellis, 

Esq 155 

V. The Court, , . 163 

Introduction to Canto VI. — To Richard 

Heber, Esq 201 

VI. The Battle, ... ,210 

Appendix to Marmion, • „ 255 



NOTICE. 



Some alterations in the text of the Introduction 
to Marmion, and of the Poem itself, as well as 
various additions to the author's Notes, will be 
observed in this Edition. Sir Walter Scott's in- 
terleaved copy has been followed, as finally re- 
vised by him in the summer of 1831. 

The preservation of the original MS. of the 
Poem has enriched this volume with numerous 
various readings, which will be found curious 
and interesting. 

1st November, 1833. 



INTRODUCTION 



MARMION. 



What I have to say respecting this Poem may be briefly 
told. In the Introduction to the " Lay of the Last 
Minstrel," I have mentioned the circumstances, so far 
as my literary life is concerned, which induced me to 
resign the active pursuit of an honourable profession, for 
the more precarious resources of literature. My appoint- ; 
ment to the Sheriffdom of Selkirk called for a change 
of residence. I left, therefore, the pleasant cottage I 
had upon the side of the Esk, for the " pleasanter banks 
of the Tweed," in order to comply with the law, which 
requires that the Sheriff shall be resident, at least during 
a certain number of months, within his jurisdiction. We 
found a delightful retirement, by my becoming the te- 
nant of my intimate friend and cousin-german, Colonel 
Russel, in his mansion of Ashestiel, which was unoccu- 
pied, during his absence on military service in India. 
The house was adequate to our accommodation, and the 

A 



I INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. 

exercise of a limited hospitality. The situation is un- 
commonly beautiful, by the side of a fine river, whose 
streams are there very favourable for angling, surrounded 
by the remains of natural woods, and by hills abounding 
in game. In point of society, according to the heartfelt 
phrase of Scripture, we dwelt " amongst our own people ;" 
and, as the distance from the metropolis was only thirty 
miles, we were not out of reach of our Edinburgh friends, 
in which city we spent the terms of the summer and 
winter Sessions of the Court, that is, five or six months 
in the year. 

An important circumstance had, about the same time, 
taken place in my life. Hopes had been held out to 
me from an influential quarter, of a nature to relieve me 
from the anxiety which I must have otherwise felt, as 
one upon the precarious tenure of whose own life rested 
the principal prospects of his family, and especially as 
one who had necessarily some dependence upon the 
favour of the public, which i3 proverbially capricious j 
though it is but justice to add, that, in my own case, I 
have not found it so. Mr. Pitt had expressed a wish to 
my personal friend, the Right Hon. William Dundas, 
now Lord Clerk Register of Scotland, that some fitting 
opportunity should be taken to be of service to me ; and 
as my views and wishes pointed to a future rather than 
an immediate provision, an opportunity of accomplishing 
this was soon found. One of the Principal Clerks of 
Session, as they are called, (official persons who occupy 
an important and responsible situation, and enjoy a con- 
siderable income,) who had served upwards of thirty 
years, felt himself, from age, and the infirmity of deaf- 
ness with which it was accompanied, desirous of retiring 
from his official situation. As the law then stood, such 
official persons were entitled to bargain with their sue- 



INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. 6 

cessors, either for a sum of money, which was usually a 
considerable one, or for an interest in the emoluments 
of the office during their life. My predecessor, whose 
services had been unusually meritorious, stipulated for 
the emoluments of his office during his life, while I should 
enjoy the survivorship, on the condition that I discharged 
the duties of the office in the meantime. Mr. Pitt, how- 
ever, having died in the interval, his administration was 
dissolved, and was succeeded by that known by the name 
of the Fox and Grenville Ministry. My affair was so 
far completed, that my commission lay in the office sub- 
scribed by his Majesty; but, from hurry or mistake, 
the interest of my predecessor was not expressed in it, 
a3 had been usual in such cases. Although, therefore, 
it only required payment of the fees, I could not in 
honour take out the commission in the present state, 
since, in the event of my dying before him, the gentle- 
man whom I succeeded must have lost the vested in- 
terest which he had stipulated to retain. I had the 
honour of an interview with Earl Spencer on the sub- 
ject, and he, in the most handsome manner, gave direc- 
tions that the commission should issue as originally in- 
tended ; adding, that the matter having received the 
royal assent, he regarded only as a claim of justice what 
he would have willingly done as an act of favour. I 
never saw Mr. Fox on this, or on any other occasion, 
and never made any application to him, conceiving that 
in doing so I might have been supposed to express poli- 
tical opinions contrary to those which I had always pro- 
fessed. In his private capacity, there is no man to 
whom I would have been more proud to owe an obliga- 
tion, had I been so distinguished. 

By this arrangement I obtained the survivorship of an 
office, the emoluments of which were fully adequate to 



4 INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. 

my wishes ; and as the law respecting the mode of pro- 
viding for superannuated officers was, about five or six 
years after, altered from that which admitted the arrange- 
ment of assistant and successor, my colleague very hand- 
somely took the opportunity of the alteration, to accept 
of the retiring annuity provided in such cases, and ad- 
mitted me to the full benefit of the office. 

But although the certainty of succeeding to a con- 
siderable income, at the time I obtained it, seemed to 
assure me of a quiet harbour in my old age, I did not 
escape my share of inconvenience from the contrary 
tides and currents by which we are so often encountered 
in our journey through life. Indeed, the publication of 
my next poetical attempt was prematurely accelerated, 
from one of those unpleasant accidents which can neither 
be foreseen nor avoided. 

I had formed the prudent resolution to endeavour to 
bestow a little more labour than I had yet done on 
my productions, and to be in no hurry again to an- 
nounce myself as a candidate for literary fame. Accord- 
ingly, particular passages of a poem, which was finally 
called " Marmion," were laboured with a good deal of 
care, by one by whom much care was seldom bestowed. 
Whether the work was worth the labour or not, I am no 
competent judge ; but I may be permitted to say, that 
the period of its composition was a very happy one in 
my life ; so much so, that I remember with pleasure, at 
this moment, some of the spots in which particular 
passages were composed. It is probably owing to this, 
that the Introductions to the several Cantos assumed the 
form of familiar epistles to my intimate friends, in which 
I alluded, perhaps more than was necessary or graceful, 
to my domestic occupations and amusements— a loqua- 
city which may be excused by those who remember 



INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. 5 

that I was still young, light-headed, and happy, and that 
44 out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speak eth." 
The misfortunes of a near relation and friend, which 
happened at this time, led me to alter my prudent de- 
termination, which had been, to use great precaution in 
sending this poem into the world ; and made it conve- 
nient at least, if not absolutely necessary, to hasten its 
publication. The publishers of " The Lay of the Last 
Minstrel," emboldened by the success of that poem, 
willingly offered a thousand pounds for " Marmion." 
The transaction being no secret, afforded Lord Byron, 
who was then at general war with all who blacked paper, 
an apology for including me in his satire, entitled " Eng- 
lish Bards and Scotch Reviewers." 1 I never could con- 
ceive how an arrangement between an author and his 
publishers, if satisfactory to the persons concerned, could 
afford matter of censure to any third party. I had taken 
no unusual or ungenerous means of enhancing the value 

1 [" Next view in state, proud prancing on his roan, 
The golden-crested hanghty Marmion, 
Now forging scrolls, now foremost in the fight, 
Not quite a felon, yet but half a knight, 
The gibbet or the field prepared to grace ; 
A mighty mixture of the great and base. 
And think' st thou, Scott ! by vain conceit perchance, 
On public taste to foist thy stale romance, 
Though Murray with his Miller may combine 
To yield thy muse just half-a-crown per line ? 
No ! when the sons of song descend to trade, 
Their bays are sear, their former laurels fade. 
Let such forego the poet's sacred name, 
Who rack their brains for lucre, not for fame ; 
Still for stern Mammon may they toil in vain ! 
And sadly gaze on gold they cannot gain ! 
Such be their meed, such still the just reward 
Of prostituted muse and hireling bard ! 
For this we spurn Apollo's venal son, 
And bid a long c Good-night to Marmion.' " 

Byron's Works, vol. vii. p. 235-6.] 



6 INTRODUCTION TO MARMION. 

of my merchandise — I had never higgled a moment 
about the bargain, but accepted at once what I consi- 
dered the handsome offer of my publishers. These 
gentlemen, at least, were not of opinion that they had 
been taken advantage of in the transaction, which in- 
deed was one of their own framing ; on the contrary, the 
sale of the Poem was so far beyond their expectation, 
as to induce them to supply the author's cellars with 
what is always an acceptable present to a young Scottish 
housekeeper, namely, a hogshead of excellent claret. 

The Poem was finished in too much haste, to allow 
me an opportunity of softening down, if not removing, 
some of its most prominent defects. The nature of Mar- 
mion's guilt, although similar instances were found, and 
might be quoted, as existing in feudal times, was never- 
theless not sufficiently peculiar to be indicative of the 
character of the period, forgery being the crime of a com- 
mercial, rather than a proud and warlike age. This 
gross defect ought to have been remedied or palliated. 
Yet I suffered the tree to lie as it had fallen. I remem- 
ber my friend, Dr. Leyden, then in the East, wrote me 
a furious remonstrance on the subject. I have, neverthe- 
less, always been of opinion, that corrections, however in 
themselves judicious, have a bad effect — after publication. 
An author is never so decidedly condemned as on his own 
confession, and may long find apologists and partisans 
until he gives up his own cause. I was not, therefore, 
inclined to afford matter for censure out of my own ad- 
missions ; and by good fortune, the novelty of the sub- 
ject, and, if I may say so, some force and vivacity of 
description, were allowed to atone for many imperfec- 
tions. Thus the second experiment on the public pa- 
tience, generally the most perilous, — for the public are 
then most apt to judge with rigour, what in the first in- 



INTRODUCTION TO MA.RMION. / 

stance they had received, perhaps, with imprudent gene- 
rosity, — was in my case decidedly successful. I had the 
good fortune to pass this ordeal favourably, and the re- 
turn of sales before me makes the copies amount to thir- 
ty-six thousand printed between 1808 and 1825, besides 
a considerable sale since that period. I shall here pause 
upon the subject of" Marmion," and, in a few prefatory 
words to " The Lady of the Lake," the last poem of 
mine which obtained eminent success, I will continue 
the task which I have imposed on myself respecting the 
origin of my productions. 

Abeotsford, April, 1830. 



THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 



HENRY, LORD MONTAGUE, 



arc &c arc. 



THIS ROMANCE IS INSCRIBED 



THE AUTHOR. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



It is hardly to be expected, that an Author ivhom the 
Public have honoured with some degree of applause, should 
not be again a trespasser on their kindness. Yet the Author 
o/*Marmion must be supposed to feel some anxiety concern- 
ing its success, since he is sensible that he hazards, by this 
second intrusion, any reputation which his first poem may 
have pyrocured him. The present story turns upon the pri- 
vate adventures of a fictitious character ; but is called a Tale 
of Flodden Field, because the hero's fate is connected with 
that memorable defeat, and the causes which led to it. The 
design of the Author ivas, if possible, to apprize his readers, 
at the outset, oftlie date of his story, and to prepare them 
for the manners of the age in which it is laid. Any histo- 
rical narrative, far more an attempt at Epic composition, 
exceeded his plan of a Romantic Tale ; yet he may be per- 
mitted to hope, from the popularity of 'The Lay of the 
Last Minstrel, that an attempt to paint the manners of 
the feudal times, upon a broader scale, and in the course of 
a more interesting story, will not be unacceptable to the 
Public. 

Tlie Poem opens about the commencement of August, and 
concludes with the defeat of Flodden, 9th September, 1513. 



MARMION: 

A TALE OF FLODDEN FIELD. 
IN SIX CANTOS. 



Alas ! that Scottish maid should sing 
The combat where her lover fell ! 

That Scottish Bard should -wake the string, 
The triumph of our foes to tell ! 

Leyden. 



MARMION. 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 



WILLIAM STEWART ROSE, Esq. 

Asliestiel, Ettrick Forest. 

November's sky is chill and drear, 
November's leaf is red and sear : 
Late, gazing down the steepy linn, 
That hems our little garden in, 
Low in its dark and narrow glen, 
You scarce the rivulet might ken, 
So thick the tangled greenwood grew, 
So feeble trill'd the streamlet through : 
Now, murmuring hoarse, and frequent seen 
Through bush and brier, no longer green, 
An angry brook, it sweeps the glade, 
Brawls over rock and wild cascade, 
And, foaming brown with double speed, 
Hurries its waters to the Tweed, 



16 



No longer Autumn's glowing red 
Upon our Forest hills is shed ;* 
No more, beneath the evening beam, 
Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam ; 
Away hath passed the heather-bell 
That bloom'd so rich on Needpath-fell ; 
Sallow his brow, and russet bare 
Are now the sister-heights of Yare. 
The sheep, before the pinching heaven, 
To shelter'd dale and down are driven, 
Where yet some faded herbage pines, 
And yet a watery sunbeam shines ; 
In meek despondency they eye 
The wither'd sward and wintry sky, 
And far beneath their summer hill, 
Stray sadly by Glenkinnon's rill : 
The shepherd shifts his mantle's fold, 
And wraps him closer from the cold ; 
His dogs no merry circles wheel, 
But, shivering, follow at his heel ; 
A cowering glance they often cast, 
As deeper moans the gathering blast. 

My imps, though hardy, bold, and wild, 
As best befits the mountain child, 
Feel the sad influence of the hour, 
And wail the daisy's vanish'd flower ; 
Their summer gambols tell, and mourn, 
And anxious ask, — Will spring return, 
And birds and lambs again be gay, 
And blossoms clothe the hawthorn spray ? 



[MS. — " No longer now in glowing red 

The Ettericke-Forest hills are clad. "J 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 17 

Yes, prattlers, yes. The daisy's flower 
Again shall paint your summer bower ; 
Again the hawthorn shall supply 
The garlands you delight to tie ; 
The lambs upon the lea shall bound, 
The wild birds carol to the round, 
And while you frolic light as they, 
Too short shall seem the summer day. 

To mute and to material things 
New life revolving summer brings ; 
The genial call dead Nature hears, 
And in her glory reappears. 
But oh ! my Country's wintry state 
What second spring shall renovate ? 
What powerful call shall bid arise 
The buried warlike and the wise -, 1 
The mind that thought for Britain's weal, 
The hand that grasp'd the victor steel ? 
The vernal sun new life bestows 
Even on the meanest flower that blows ; 
But vainly, vainly may he shine, 
Where glory weeps o'er Nelson's shrine ; 
And vainly pierce the solemn gloom, 
That shrouds, O Pitt, thy hallow'd tomb ! 

Deep graved in every British heart, 
O never let those names depart ! 2 
Say to your sons, — Lo, here his grave, 
Who victor died on Gadite wave -, 3 

1 [MS. — " What call awakens from the dead 

The hero*s heart, the patriot's head ?"] 

2 [MS.—" Deep in each British bosom wrote, 

O never be those names forgot !"] 

3 [Nelson.] B 



18 



To him, as to the burning levin, 

Short, bright, resistless course was given. 

Where'er his country's foes were found, 

Was heard the fated thunder's sound, 

Till burst the bolt on yonder shore, 

Roll'd, blazed, destroy 'd, — and was no more. 

Nor mourn ye less his perish'd worth, 
Who bade the conqueror go forth, 
And launch 'd that thunderbolt of war 
On Egypt, Hafnia, 1 Trafalgar ; 
Who, born to guide such high emprize, 
For Britain's weal was early wise ; 
Alas ! to whom the Almighty gave, 
For Britain's sins, an early grave ! 
His worth, who, in his mightiest hour, 
A bauble held the pride of power, 
Spurn'd at the sordid lust of pelf, 
And served his Albion for herself; 
Who, when the frantic crowd amain 
Strain 'd at subjection's bursting rein, 2 
O'er their wild mood full conquest gain'd, 
The pride, he would not crush, restrain 'd, 
Show'd their fierce zeal a worthier cause, 3 
And brought the freeman's arm, to aid the 
freeman's laws. 

Had'st thou but lived, though stripp'd of power, 4 
A watchman on the lonely tower, 

Copenhagen. 

2 [MS.—" Tugg'd at subjection's cracking rein."] 

3 [MS.—" Show'd their bold zeal a worthier cause."] 

* [This paragraph was interpolated on the blank page of the 
MS. We insert the lines as they appear there : — 

" O had he lived, though stripp'd of power, 

Like a lone watchman on the tower, 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 19 

Thy thrilling trump had roused the land, 

When fraud or danger were at hand ; 

By thee, as by the beacon-light, 

Our pilots had kept course aright ; 

As some proud column, though alone, 

Thy strength had propp'd the tottering throne : 

Now is the stately column broke, 

The beacon-light is quench'd in smoke, 

The trumpet's silver sound is still, 

The warder silent on the hill ! 

O think, how to his latest day, 1 
When Death, just hovering, claim'd his prey, 
With Palinure's unalter'd mood, 
Firm at his dangerous post he stood ; 
Each call for needful rest repell'd, 
With dying hand the rudder held, 
Till, in his fall, with fateful sway, 
The steerage of the realm gave way ! 
Then, while on Britain's thousand plains, 
One unpolluted church remains, 



His thrilling trumpet through the land 
Had warn'd when foemen were at hand, 
As by some beacon's lonely light, 

{By thee our course had steer'd aright ; 1 
Our steady course had steer'd aright ; > 
Our pilots kept their course aright ; J 
His single mind, unbent by fate, 
Had propp'd his country's tottering weight ; 

As some | *JJJ J- column left alone, 

f Had propp'd our tottering state and throne, 
I His strength had propp'd our tottering throne 
The beacon light is quench' d in smoke, 
The warder fallen, the column broke. "J 

MS.—" Yet think how to his latest day."] 



20 MARMION. 

Whose peaceful bells ne'er sent around 
The bloody tocsin's maddening sound, 
But still, upon the hallow'd day, 1 
Convoke the swains to praise and pray ; 
While faith and civil peace are dear, 
Grace this cold marble with a tear, — 
He, who preserved them, Pitt, lies here ! 

Nor yet suppress the generous sigh, 
Because his rival slumbers nigh ; 
Nor be thy requiescat dumb, 
Lest it be said o'er Fox's tomb. 2 
For talents mourn, untimely lost, 
When best employ'd, and wanted most ; 
Mourn genius high, and lore profound, 
And wit that loved to play, not wound ; 
And all the reasoning powers divine, 
To penetrate, resolve, combine ; 
And feelings keen, and fancy's glow, — 
They sleep with him who sleeps below : 
And, if thou mourn 'st they could not save 
From error him who owns this grave, 
Be every harsher thought suppress'd, 
And sacred be the last long rest. 
Here, where the end of earthly things 
Lays heroes, patriots, bards, and kings ; 

i [MS.—" But still upon the holy day."'] 
2 [In place of the next twelve lines, the original MS. has 
the following : — 

" If genius high, and judgment sound, 
And wit that loved to play, not wound, 
And all the reasoning powers divine, 
To penetrate, resolve, comhine, 
Could save one mortal of the herd 
From error — Fox had never err'd."J 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 21 

Where stiff the hand, and still the tongue, 

Of those who fought, and spoke, and sung ; 

Here, where the fretted aisles prolong 

The distant notes of holy song, 

As if some angel spoke agen, 

" All peace on earth, good- will to men ;" 

If ever from an English heart, 

O, here let prejudice depart, 

And, partial feeling cast aside, 1 

Record, that Fox a Briton died ! 

When Europe crouch 'd to France's yoke, 

And Austria bent, and Prussia broke. 

And the firm Russian's purpose brave 

Was barter 'd by a timorous slave, 

Even then dishonour's peace he spurn'd, 

The sullied olive-branch return'd, 

Stood for his country's glory fast, 

And nail'd her colours to the mast ! 

Heaven, to reward his firmness, gave 

A portion in this honour'd grave, 

And ne'er held marble in its trust 

Of two such wondrous men the dust. 

With more than mortal powers endow'd, 
How high they soar'd above the crowd ! 
Theirs was no common party race, 2 
Jostling by dark intrigue for place ; 
Like fabled Gods, their mighty war 
Shook realms and nations in its jar ; 
Beneath each banner proud to stand, 
Look'd up the noblest of the land, 



1 [MS. — " And party passion doff'd aside."] 

2 [MS.— f" Theirs was no common courtier race. '] 



22 



Till through the British world were known 

The names of Pitt and Fox alone. 

Spells of such force no wizard grave 

E'er framed in dark Thessalian cave, 

Though his could drain the ocean dry, 

And force the planets from the sky. 1 

These spells are spent, and, spent with these, 

The wine of life is on the lees. 

Genius, and taste, and talent gone, 

For ever tomb'd beneath the stone, 

Where — taming thought to human pride ! — 

The mighty chiefs sleep side by side. 2 

Drop upon Fox's grave the tear, 

'Twill trickle to his rival's bier ; 

O'er Pitt's the mournful requiem sound, 

And Fox's shall the notes rebound. 

The solemn echo seems to cry, — 

" Here let their discord with them die. 

Speak not for those a separate doom, 

Whom Fate made Brothers in the tomb ; 

But search the land of living men, 

Where wilt thou find their like agen ?" 

Rest, ardent Spirits ! till the cries 
Of dying Nature bid you rise ; 
Not even your Britain's groans can pierce 
The leaden silence of your hearse ; 
Then, O, how impotent and vain 
This grateful tributary strain ! 
Though not unmark'd from northern clime. 
Ye heard the Border Minstrel's rhyme : 

i [MS. — "And force the pah moon from the sky."] 
2 [Compare the lines on Pitt and Fox in Byron's 
' Age of Bronze"] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 23 

His Gothic harp has o'er you rung ; 
The Bard you deign'd to praise, your deathless 
names has sung. 

Stay yet, illusion, stay a while, 
My wilder'd fancy still beguile ! 
From this high theme how can I part, 
Ere half unloaded is my heart ! 
For all the tears e'er sorrow drew, 
And all the raptures fancy knew, 
And all the keener rush of blood, 
That throbs through bard in bard-like mood, 
Were here a tribute mean and low, 
Though all their mingled streams could flow — 
Woe, wonder and sensation high, 
In one spring- tide of ecstasy ! — 
It will not be — it may not last — 
The vision of enchantment's past : 
Like frostwork in the morning ray, 
The fancied fabric melts away -, 1 
Each Gothic arch, memorial-stone, 
And long, dim, lofty aisle, are gone ; 
And, lingering last, deception dear, 
The choir's high sounds die on my ear. 
Now slow return the lonely down, 
The silent pastures bleak and brown, 
The farm begirt with copsewood wild, 
The gambols of each frolic child, 
Mixing their shrill cries with the tone 
Of Tweed's dark waters rushing on. 



1 ["If but a beam of sober reason play, 
Lo! Fancy's fairy frostwork melts away." 

Rogers' Pleasures of Memory.] 



24 MARMION. 

Prompt on unequal tasks to run, 
Thus Nature disciplines her son : 
Meeter, she says, for me to stray, 
And waste the solitary day, 
In plucking from yon fen the reed, 
And watch it floating down the Tweed ; 
Or idly list the shrilling lay, 
With which the milkmaid cheers her way, 
Marking its cadence rise and fail, 
As from the field, beneath her pail, 
She trips it down the uneven dale: 
Meeter for me, by yonder cairn, 
The ancient shepherd's tale to learn ; 
Though oft he stop in rustic fear, 1 
Lest his old legends tire the ear 
Of one, who, in his simple mind, 
May boast of book-learn 'd taste refined. 

But thou, my friend, can'st fitly tell, 
(For few have read romance so well,) 
How still the legendary lay 
O'er poet's bosom holds its sway ; 
How on the ancient minstrel strain 
Time lays his palsied hand in vain ; 
And how our hearts at doughty deeds, 
By warriors wrought in steely weeds, 
Still throb for fear and pity's sake ; 
As when the Champion of the Lake 
Enters Morgana's fated house, 
Or in the Chapel Perilous, 

i [MS.—" Though oft he stops to wonder still 
That his old legends have the skill 
To win so well the attentive ear, 
Perchance to draw the sigh or tear.""] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. Z5 

Despising spells and demons' force, 
Holds converse with the unburied corse ; l 
Or when Dame Ganore's grace to move, 
(Alas, that lawless was their love !) 
He sought proud Tarquin in his den, 
And freed full sixty knights ; or when, 
A sinful man, and unconfess'd, 
He took the Sangreal's holy quest, 
And, slumbering, saw the vision high, 
He might not view with waking eye. 2 

The mightiest chiefs of British song 
Scorn'd not such legends to prolong : 
They gleam through Spenser's elfin dream, 
And mix in Milton's heavenly theme ; 
And Dryden, in immortal strain, 
Had raised the Table Round again, 3 
But that a ribbald King and Court 
Bade him toil on, to make them sport ; 
Demanded for their niggard pay, 
Fit for their souls, a looser lay, 
Licentious satire, song, and play •, 4 
The world defrauded of the high design, 5 
Profaned the God-given strength, and marr'd the 
lofty line. 



1 See Appendix, Note A. 

2 See Appendix, Note B. 

3 See Appendix, Note C. 

4 [MS. — " Licentious song, lampoon, and play."] 

5 [MS. — " The -vrorld defrauded of the bold design, 

And quench'd the heroic \ fire, and marr'd the 
Profaned the heavenly J lofty line." 

Again, 

" Profaned Ms God-given strength, and marr'd his lofty 
line,"] 



26 



Warm'd by such names, well may we then, 
Though dwindled sons of little men, 
Essay to break a feeble lance 
In the fair fields of old romance ; 
Or seek the moated castle's cell, 
Where long through talisman and spell, 
While tyrants ruled, and damsels wept, 
Thy Genius, Chivalry, hath slept : 
There sound the harpings of the North, 
Till he awake and sally forth, 
On venturous quest to prick again, 
In all his arms, with all his train, 1 
Shield, lance, and brand, and plume, and scarf, 
Fay, giant, dragon, squire, and dwarf, 
And wizard with his wand of might, 
And errant maid on palfrey white. 
Around the Genius weave their spells, 
Pure Love, who scarce his passion tells •, 
Mystery, half veiPd and half reveal'd ; 
And Honour, with his spotless shield ; 
Attention, with fix'd eye 5 and Fear, 
That loves the tale she shrinks to hear ; 
And gentle Courtesy ; and Faith, 
Unchanged by sufferings, time, or death ; 
And Valour, lion-mettled lord, 
Leaning upon his own good sword. 

1 [In the MS. the rest of the passage stands as follows : 

" Around him wait with all their ( chai ™ s > 
I spells, 

Pnre Love which { Virtue only warms ; 

__ i. scarce his passion tells ; 
Mystery, half seen and half conceal'd ; 
And Honour, with unspotted shield ; 
Attention, with fix'd eye ; and Fear, 
That loves the tale she shrinks to hear ; 
And gentle Courtesy ; and Faith, 
And Valour that despises death.""] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 2/ 

Well has thy fair achievement shown, 
A worthy meed may thus be won ; 
Ytene's 1 oaks — beneath whose shade 
Their theme the merry minstrels made, 
Of Ascapart, and Bevis bold, 2 
And that Red King, 3 who, while of old, 
Through Boldrewood the chase he led, 
By his loved huntsman's arrow bled — 
Ytene's oaks have heard again 
Renew'd such legendary strain ; 
For thou hast sung, how He of Gaul, 
That Amadis so famed in hall, 
For Oriana, foil'd in fight 
The Necromancer's felon might ; 
And well in modern verse hast wove 
Partenopex's mystic love : 4 
Hear, then, attentive to my lay, 
A knightly tale of Albion's elder day. 

1 The New Forest in Hampshire, anciently so called. 

2 See Appendix, Note D. 

3 William Rufus. 

4 [Partenopex de Blois, a poem, by W. S. Bose, Esq., was pub- 
lished in 1808.— Ed.] 



[ 28 ] 



M A R M I O N. 



CANTO FIRST. 



®%t Castle. 
I. 

Day set on Norham's castled steep, 1 
And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep, 

And Cheviot's mountains lone : 
The battled towers, the donjon keep, 2 
The loophole grates, where captives weep, 
The flanking walls that round it sweep, 

In yellow lustre shone. 3 
The warriors on the turrets high, 
Moving athwart the evening sky, 4 

Seem'd forms of giant height : 
Their armour, as it caught the rays, 

1 See Appendix, Note E. 

2 See Appendix, Note F. 

3 [In the MS. the first line has " hoary keep ," the fourth 
"donjon steep;" the seventh " ruddy lustre."] 

4 [MS.—" Eastern sky."] 



Canto I. THE CASTLE. 29 

Flash M back again the western blaze, 1 
In lines of dazzling light. 

II. 

Saint George's banner, broad and gay, 
Now faded, as the fading ray 

Less bright, and less, was flung ; 
The evening gale had scarce the power 
To wave it on the Donjon Tower, 

So heavily it hung. 
The scouts had parted on their search, 

The Castle gates were barred •, 
Above the gloomy portal arch, 
Timing his footsteps to a march, 

The Warder kept his guard ; 
Low humming, as he paced along, 
Some ancient Border gathering song. 

III. 

A distant trampling sound he hears ; 
He looks abroad, and soon appears 
O'er Horncliff-hill a plump 2 of spears 

Beneath a pennon gay ; 
A horseman darting from the crowd, 
Like lightning from a summer cloud, 
Spurs on his mettled courser proud, 

Before the dark array. 
Beneath the sable palisade, 
That closed the Castle barricade, 

1 [MS. — " Evening blaze."] 

2 This word properly applies to a flight of water-fowl ; hut 
is applied, by analogy, to a body of horse. 

" There is a knight of the North Country, 
Which leads a lusty plump of spears." 

Flodden Field, 



30 MARMION. Canto I. 

His bugle-horn he blew ; 
The warder hasted from the wall, 
And warn'd the Captain in the hall, 

For well the blast he knew : 
And joyfully that knight did call, 
To sewer, squire, and seneschal. 

IV. 

" Now broach ye a pipe of Malvoisie, 

Bring pasties of the doe, 
And quickly make the entrance free, 
And bid my heralds ready be, 
And every minstrel sound his glee, 

And all our trumpets blow ; 
And, from the platform, spare ye not 
To fire a noble salvo-shot -, 1 

Lord Marmion waits below !" 
Then to the Castle's lower ward 

Sped forty yeomen tall, 
The iron-studded gates unbarr'd, 
Raised the portcullis' ponderous guard, 
The lofty palisade unsparr'd, 

And let the drawbridge fall. 

V. 

Along the bridge Lord Marmion rode, 
Proudly his red-roan charger trode, 
His helm hung at the saddlebow ; 
Well by his visage you might know 
He was a stalwart knight, and keen, 
And had in many a battle been ; 

i [MS.—." A welcome shot."] 



Canto I. THE CASTLE. 31 

The scar on his brown cheek revealed 1 
A token true of Bosworth field ; 
His eyebrow dark, and eye of fire, 
Show'd spirit proud, and prompt to ire ; 
Yet lines of thought upon his cheek 
Did deep design and counsel speak. 
His forehead, by his casque worn bare, 
His thick mustache, and curly hair, 
Coal-black, and grizzled here and there, 

But more through toil than age ; 
His square- turn 1 d joints, and strength of limb, 
Show'd him no carpet knight so trim, 
But in close fight a champion grim, 

In camps a leader sage, 

VI. 

Well was he arm'd from head to heel, 

In mail and plate of Milan steel ; 2 

But his strong helm, of mighty cost, 

Was all with burnish'd gold emboss'd ; 

Amid the plumage of the crest, 

A falcon hover'd on her nest, 

With wings outspread and forward breast ; 

E'en such a falcon on his shield, 

Soar'd sable in an azure field : 

The golden legion bore aright, 

OTijn zfyzzks at xaty Xa teat$ fe trt$)t. 5 

Blue was the charger's broider'd rein ; 
Blue ribbons deck'd his arching mane ; 

1 [MS. — " On his bro-wn cheek an azure scar 

Bore token true of Bosworth war." — 

2 See Appendix, Note G. 

3 See Appendix, Note H. 



32 MARMION. Canto I. 

The knightly housing's ample fold, 
Was velvet blue, and trappM with gold. 

VII. 

Behind him rode two gallant squires, 
Of noble name, and knightly sires ; 
They burn'd the gilded spurs to claim ; 
For well could each a warhorse tame, 
Could draw the bow, the sword could sway, 
And lightly bear the ring away ; 
Nor less with courteous precepts stored, 
Could dance in hall, and carve at board, 
And frame love-ditties passing rare, 
And sing them to a lady fair, 

VIII. 

Four men-at-arms came at their backs, 

With halbert, bill, and battle-axe : 

They bore Lord Marmion's lance so strong, 1 

And led his sumpter-mules along, 

And ambling palfrey, when at need 

Him listed ease his battle-steed. 

The last and trustiest of the four, 

On high his forky pennon bore ; 

Like swallow's tail, in shape and hue, 

Flutter'd the streamer glossy blue, 

Where, blazon'd sable, as before, 

The towering falcon seem'd to soar. 

Last, twenty yeomen, two and two, 

In hosen black, and jerkins blue, 

i MS. — " One bore Lord Marmion's lance so strong, 
Tivo led his sumpter-mules along, 
The third his palfrey, when at need."] 



Canto I. THE CASTLE. 

With falcons broider'd on each breast, 
Attended on their lord's behest. 
Each, chosen for an archer good, 
Knew hunting-craft by lake or wood ; 
Each one a six-foot bow could bend, 
And far a cloth-yard shaft could send ; 
Each held a boar-spear tough and strong, 
And at their belts their quivers rung. 
Their dusty palfreys, and array, 
Show'd they had march'd a weary way. 

IX. 

'Tis meet that I should tell you now, 
How fairly arm'd, and order'd how, 

The soldiers of the guard, 
With musket, pike, and morion, 
To welcome noble Marmion, 

Stood in the Castle-yard ; 
Minstrels and trumpeters were there, 
The gunner held his linstock yare, 

For welcome-shot prepared ; 
Enter'd the train, and such a clang, 1 
As then through all his turrets rang, 

Old Norham never heard. 

X. 

The guards their morrice-pikes advanced, 
The trumpets flourish'd brave, 

The cannon from the ramparts glanced, 
And thundering welcome gave. 



1 [MS. — " And when he enter'd, such a clang, 
As through the echoing turrets rang." 



34 marmion. Canto T. 

A blithe salute, in martial sort, 

The minstrels well might sound, 
For, as Lord Marmion cross'd the court, 

He scatter^ angels round. 
" Welcome to Norham, Marmion I 

Stout heart, and open hand ! 
Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan, 

Thou flower of English land !" 

XL 

Two pursuivants, whom tabarts deck, 
With silver scutcheon round their neck, 

Stood on the steps of stone, 
By which you reach the donjon gate, 
And there, with herald pomp and state, 

They haiPd Lord Marmion : 
They haiPd him Lord of Fontenaye, 
Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye, 

Of Tamworth tower and town -, 1 
And he, their courtesy to requite, 
Gave them a chain of twelve marks'' weight, 

All as he lighted down. 
" Now, largesse, largesse, 2 Lord Marmion, 

Knight of the crest of gold ! 
A blazon'd shield, in battle won, 

Ne'er guarded heart so bold." 

XII. 

They marshaird him to the Castle-hall, 
Where the guests stood all aside, 

And loudly flourish M the trumpet-call, 
And the heralds loudly cried, 

1 [See Appendix, Note I.] 

2 [See Appendix, Note K.] 



Canto I. THE CASTLE. 35 

— "Room, lordlings, room for Lord Marmion, 

With the crest and helm of gold ! 
Full well we know the trophies won 

In the lists at Cottiswold : 
There, vainly Ralph de Wilton strove 

'Gainst Marmion's force to stand 
To him he lost his lady-love 

And to the King his land. 
Ourselves beheld the listed field, 

A sight both sad and fair •, 
We saw Lord Marmion pierce his shield, 1 

And saw his saddle bare ; 
We saw the victor win the crest 

He wears with worthy pride ; 
And on the gibbet-tree, reversed, 

His foeman's scutcheon tied. 
Place, nobles, for the Falcon-Knight ! 

Room, room, ye gentles gay, 
For him who conquered in the right, 

Marmion of Fontenaye !" 

XIII. 

Then stepped, to meet that noble Lord, 

Sir Hugh the Heron bold, 
Baron of Twisell and of Ford, 

And Captain of the Hold. 2 
He led Lord Marmion to the deas, 

Raised o'er the pavement high, 
And placed him in the upper place, 

They feasted full and high : 
The whiles a Northern harper rude 
Chanted a rhyme of deadly feud, 

1 [MS.—" Cleave his shield.] 

2 [See Appendix, Note L.] 



36* marmion. Canto I. 

" How the fierce Thinualls, and Ridleys all, 
Stout Willimondswick, 
And Hardriding Dick, 
And Hughie of Hawdon, and Will o' the Wall, 
Have set on Sir Albany Featherstonhaugh, 
And taken his life at tlie Deadman's-shaiv . vl 
Scantly Lord Marmion's ear could brook 

The harper's barbarous lay ; 
Yet much he praised the pains he took, 
And well those pains did pay *, 
For lady's suit, and minstrel's strain, 
By knight should ne'er be heard in vain. 

XIV. 

" Now, good Lord Marmion," Heron says, 

" Of your fair courtesy, 
I pray you bide some little space 

In this poor tower with me. 
Here may you keep your arms from rust, 

May breathe your war-horse well ; 
Seldom hath pass'd a week but giust 

Or feat of arms befell : 
The Scots can rein a mettled steed ; 

And love to couch a spear ; — 
Saint George ! a stirring life they lead, 

That have such neighbours near. 
Then stay with us a little space, 

Our northern wars to learn ; 
I pray you, for your lady's grace ! " 

Lord Marmion 's brow grew stern. 



1 See Appendix, Note M. 



Canto I. THE CASTLE. 37 

XV. 

The Captain marked his altered look, 

And gave a sqnire the sign ; 
A mighty wassell-bowl he took, 

And crown'd it high with wine. 
" Now pledge me here, Lord Marmion : 

But first I pray thee fair, 1 
Where hast thou left that page of thine, 
That used to serve thy cup of wine, 

Whose beauty was so rare ? 
When last in Raby towers we met, 

The boy I closely eyed, 
And often mark'd his cheeks were wet, 

With tears he fain would hide : 
His was no rugged horse-boy's hand, 
To burnish shield or sharpen brand, 2 

Or saddle battle-steed ; 
But meeter seemed for lady fair, 
To fan her cheek, or curl her hair, 
Or through embroidery, rich and rare, 

The slender silk to lead : 
His skin was fair, his ringlets gold, 

His bosom — when he sigh'd, 
The russet doublet's rugged fold 

Could scarce repel its pride ! 
Say hast thou given that lovely youth, 

To serve in lady's bower ? 
Or was the gentle page, in sooth, 

A gentle paramour ?" 



[MS. — " And let me pray thee fair."] 
2 [MS. — " To rub a shield, or sharp a brand."] 



38 MARMION. Canto I. 

XVI. 

Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest, 1 

He roll'd his kindling eye, 
"With pain his rising wrath suppress'd, 

Yet made a calm reply : 
" That boy thou thought'st so goodly fair, 

He might not brook the northern air. 
More of his fate if thou wouldst learn, 

I left him sick in Lindisfarn : 2 

Enough of him But, Heron, say, 

Why does thy lovely lady gay 
Disdain to grace the hall to-day ? 
Or has that dame so fair and sage, 
Gone on some pious pilgrimage ?" — 
He spoke in covert scorn, for fame 
Whisper'd light tales of Heron's dame. 5 

XVII. 

Unmark'd, at least unreck'd the taunt, 

Careless the Knight replied, 4 
" No bird whose feathers gaily flaunt, 

Delights in cage to bide. 

1 [MS. — " Lord Marmion ill such jest could brook, 

He roll'd his kindling eye ; 
Fix'd on the Knight his dark haught look, 

And answer'd stern and high : 
• That page thou did'st so closely eye, 

So fair of hand and skin, 
Is come, I ween, of lineage high, 

And of thy lady's kin. 
That youth, so like a paramour, 

Who wept for shame and pride, 
Was erst, in Wilton's lordly bower, 

Sir Ralph de Wilton's bride.'"] 

2 [See Note to Canto II. stanza I. Appendix.] 

3 [MS.—" Whisper'd strange things of Heron's dame. " 
■* [MS.— " The Captain gay replied."} 



Canto I. THE CASTLE. 39 

Norham is grim and grated close, 
Hemm'd in by battlement and fosse, 

And many a darksome tower ; 
And better loves my lady bright 
To sit in liberty and light, 

In fair Queen Margaret's bower. 
We hold our greyhound in our hand, 

Our falcon on our glove ; 
But where shall we find leash or band, 

For dame that loves to rove ? 
Let the wild falcon soar her swing, 
She'll stoop when she has tired her wing." — l 

XVIII. 

" Nay, if with Royal James's bride 
The lovely Lady Heron bide, 
Behold me here a messenger, 
Your tender greetings prompt to bear ; 
For, to the Scottish court address'd, 
I journey at our King's behest, 
And pray you, of your grace, provide 
For me, and mine, a trusty guide. 

1 have not ridden in Scotland since 

James back'd the cause of that mock prince, 
Warbeck, that Flemish counterfeit, 
Who on the gibbet paid the cheat. 
Then did I march with Surrey's power, 
What time we razed old Ayton tower." — 2 

XIX. 

" For such-like need, my lord, I trow, 
Norham can find you guides enow ; 

i [MS.—" She'll stoop again when tired her wing".] 

2 [See Appendix, Note N.] 



40 MARMION. Canto L 

For here be some have prick'd as far, 
On Scottish ground, as to Dunbar ; 
Have drunk the monks of St. Bothan's ale, 
And driven the beeves of Lauderdale ; 
Harried the wives of Greenlaw's goods, 
And given them light to set their hoods." — l 

XX. 

" Now, in good sooth,'' Lord Marmion cried, 

" Were I in warlike wise to ride, 

A better guard I would not lack, 

Than your stout foray ers at my back ; 

But, as in form of peace I go, 

A friendly messenger, to know, 

Why through all Scotland, near and far, 

Their King is mustering troops for war, 

The sight of plundering Border spears 

Might justify suspicious fears, 

And deadly feud, or thirst of spoil, 

Break out in some unseemly broil : 

A herald were my fitting guide ; 

Or friar, sworn in peace to bide , 

Or pardoner, or travelling priest, 

Or strolling pilgrim, at the least." 

XXL 

The Captain mused a little space, 

And pass'd his hand across his face. 

— " Fain would I find the guide you want, 

But ill may spare a pursuivant, 

The only men that safe can ride 

Mine errands on the Scottish side : 

1 [See Appendix, Note 0.] 



Canto I. THE CASTLE. 41 

And though a bishop built this fort, 
Few holy brethren here resort ; 
Even our good chaplain, as I ween, 
Since our last siege, we have not seen : 
The mass he might not sing or say, 
Upon one stinted meal a day ; 
So safe he sat in Durham aisle, 
And pray'd for our success the while. 
Our Norham vicar, woe betide, 
Is all too well in case to ride ; 
The priest of Shoreswood 1 — he could rein 
The wildest war-horse in your train ; 
But then, no spearman in the hall 
Will sooner swear, or stab, or brawl. 
Friar John of Tillmouth were the man : 
A blithesome brother at the can, 
A welcome guest in hall and bower, 
He knows each castle, town, and tower, 
In which the wine and ale is good, 
\Twixt Newcastle and Holy-Rood. 
But that good man, as ill befalls, 
Hath seldom left our castle walls, 
Since, on the vigil of St. Bede, 
In evil hour, he cross'd the Tweed, 
To teach Dame Alison her creed. 
Old Bughtrig found him with his wife ; 
And John, an enemy to strife, 
Sans frock and hood, fled for his life. 
The jealous churl has deeply swore, 
That, if again he venture o'er, 
He shall shrieve penitent no more. 
Little he loves such risks, I know ; 
Yet, in your guard, perchance will go." 

i See Appendix, Note P. 



42 marmion. Canto L 

XXII. 

Young Selby, at the fair hall-board, 

Carved to his uncle and that lord, 

And reverently took up the word. 

" Kind uncle, woe were we each one, 

If harm should hap to brother John. 

He is a man of mirthful speech, 

Can many a game and gambol teach ; 

Full well at tables can he play, 

And sweep at bowls the stake away. 

None can a lustier carol bawl, 

The needfullest among us all, 

When time hangs heavy in the hall, 

And snow comes thick at Christmas tide, 

And we can neither hunt, nor ride 

A foray on the Scottish side. 

The vow'd revenge of Bughtrig rude, 

May end in worse than loss of hood. 

Let Friar John, in safety, still 

In chimney-corner snore his fill, 

Roast hissing crabs, or flagons swill : 

Last night, to Norham there came one, 

Will better guide Lord Marmion. " — 

" Nephew," quoth Heron, " by my fay, 

Well hast thou spoke ; say forth thy say." — 

XXIII. 
" Here is a holy Palmer come, 
From Salem first, and last from Rome ; 
One, that hath kiss'd the blessed tomb, 
And visited each holy shrine, 
In Araby and Palestine ; 
On hills of Armenie hath been, 
Where Noah's ark may yet be seen ; 



Canto I. THE CASTLE. 43 

By that Red Sea, too, hath he trod, 
Which parted at the prophet's rod •, 
In Sinai's wilderness he saw 
The Mount, where Israel heard the law, 
'Mid thunder-dint, and flashing levin, 
And shadows, mists, and darkness given. 
He shows Saint James's cockle-shell, 
Of fair Montserrat, too, can tell ; 

And of that Grot where Olives nod, 1 
Where, darling of each heart and eye, 
From all the youth of Sicily, 

Saint Rosalie 2 retired to God. 3 

XXIV. 

" To stout Saint George of Norwich merry, 
Saint Thomas, too, of Canterbury, 
Cuthbert of Durham, and Saint Bede, 
For his sins' pardon hath he pray'd. 
He knows the passes of the North, 
And seeks far shrines beyond the Forth ; 
Little he eats, and long will wake, 
And drinks but of the stream or lake. 
This were a guide o'er moor and dale ; 
But, when our John hath quaff 'd his ale, 
As little as the wind that blows, 
And warms itself against his nose, 4 
Kens he, or cares which way he goes." — 

XXV. 

" Gramercy !" quoth Lord Marmion, 
" Full loth were I, that Friar John, 

1 [MS. — " And of the Olives' shaded cell."] 

2 [MS.—" Retired to God St. Rosalie."] 

3 See Appendix, Note Q. 

4 [MS. — And with metheglin warm'd his nose, 

As little as," &c] 



4-4 marmiox. Canto T. 

That venerable man, for me, 
Were placed in fear or jeopardy. 
If this same Palmer will me lead 

From hence to Holy-Rood, 
Like his good saint, I'll pay his meed, 
Instead of cockle-shell, or bead, 

With angels fair and good. 
I love such holy ramblers ; still 
They know to charm a weary hill, 
With song, romance, or lay : 
Some jovial tale, or glee, or jest, 
Some lying legend, at the least, 

They bring to cheer the way." — 

XXVI. 

" Ah ! noble sir," young Selby said, 

And finger on his lip he laid, 

" This man knows much, perchance e'en more 

Than he could learn by holy lore. 

Still to himself he's muttering, 

And shrinks as at some unseen thing. 

Last night we listened at his cell \ 

Strange sounds we heard, and, sooth to tell, 

He murmur 'd on till morn, howe'er 

No living mortal could be near. 

Sometimes I thought I heard it plain, 

As other voices spoke again. 

I cannot tell — I like it not — 

Friar John hath told us it is wrote, 

No conscience clear, and void of wrong, 

Can rest awake, and pray so long. 

Himself still sleeps before his beads 

Have mark'd ten aves, and two creeds." — l 

1 Friar John understood the soporific virtue of his beads and 
breviary, as well as his namesake in Rabelais. " But Gargantua 



Canto I. THE CASTLE. 45 

XXVII. 

— " Let pass," quoth Marmion ; by my fay, 
This man shall guide me on my way, 
Although the great arch-fiend and he 
Had sworn themselves of company. 
So please you, gentle youth, to call 
This Palmer 1 to the Castle-hall." 
The summon'd Palmer came in place ; 
His sable cowl o'erhung his face ; 
In his black mantle was he clad, 
With Peter's keys, in cloth of red, 

On his broad shoulders wrought ; 
The scallop shell his cap did deck ; 
The crucifix around his neck 

Was from Loretto brought ; 
His sandals were with travel tore, 
Staff, budget, bottle, scrip he wore ; 
The faded palm-branch in his hand 
Show'd pilgrim from the Holy Land. 

XXVIII. 

When as the Palmer came in hall, 

Nor lord, nor knight, was there more tall, 

Or had a statelier step withal, 

Or look'd more high and keen ; 
For no saluting did he wait, 
But strode across the hall of state, 
And fronted Marmion where he sate, 2 

could not sleep by any means, on which side soever he turned him- 
self. Whereupon the monk said to him, ' I never sleep soundly 
but when I am at sermon or prayers: Let us therefore begin, 
you and I, the seven penitential psalms, to try whether you shall 
not quickly fall asleep.' The conceit pleased Gargantua very well •„ 
and, beginning the first of these psalms, as soon as they came to 
Beati quorum, they fell asleep, both the one and the other." 
1 See Appendix, Note R. 
2 [MS;— " And near Lord Marmion took his seat."] 



46 marmion*. Canto I. 

As he his peer had been. 
But his gaunt frame was worn with toil ; 
His cheek was sunk, alas the while ! 
And when he struggled at a smile, 

His eye look'd haggard wild : 
Poor wretch ! the mother that him bare, 
If she had been in presence there, 
In his wan face, and sun-burn'd hair, 

She had not known her child. 
Danger, long travel, want, or woe, 
Soon change the form that best we know — 
For deadly fear can time outgo, 

And blanch at once the hair ; 
Hard toil can roughen form and face, 1 
And want can quench the eye's bright grace, 
Nor does old age a wrinkle trace 

More deeply than despair. 
Happy whom none of these befall, 2 
But this poor Palmer knew them all. 

XXIX. 

Lord Marmion then his boon did ask ; 
The Palmer took on him the task, 
So he would march with morning tide, 3 
To Scottish court to be his guide. 
M But I have solemn vows to pay, 
And may not linger by the way, 
To fair St. Andrews bound, 



[MS.— " Hard toil can alter form and face, 

( roughen youthful grace, 
And want can j quench j. the eyes of grace/ n 

' [MS. — " Happy whom none svch woes befall."] 
i [MS.—" So he would ride with morning tide."j 



Canto I. THE CASTLE. 4 7 

Within the ocean-cave to pray, 
Where good Saint Rule his holy lay, 
From midnight to the dawn of day, 

Sung to the billows' sound -, 1 
Thence to Saint Fillan's blessed well, 
Whose spring can frenzied dreams dispel, 

And the crazed brain restore : 2 
Saint Mary grant, that cave or spring 
Could back to peace my bosom bring, 

Or bid it throb no more !" 

XXX. 

And now the midnight draught of sleep, 
Where wine and spices richly steep, 
In massive bowl of silver deep, 

The page presents on knee. 
Lord Marmion drank a fair good rest, 
The Captain pledged his noble guest, 
The cup went through among the rest, 3 

Who drain'd it merrily ; 
Alone the Palmer pass'd it by, 
Though Selby press'd him courteously. 
This was a sign the feast was o'er ; 
It hush'd the merry wassel roar, 4 

i See Appendix, Note S. 

2 St. Fillan was a Scottish saint of some reputation. Although 
Popery is, with us, matter of abomination, yet the common people 
still retain some of the superstitions connected with it. There are 
in Perthshire several wells and springs dedicated to St. Fillan, 
which are still places of pilgrimage and offerings, even among the 
Protestants. They are held powerful in cases of madness ; and, 
in some of very late occurrence, lunatics have been left all night 
bound to the holy stone, in confidence that the saint would cure 
and unloose them before morning. [See various notes to the 
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.] 

3 [MS. — " The cup pass'd round among the rest."] 

4 r MS. — "Soon died the merry wassel roar. "J 



43 marmion. Canto I. 

The minstrels ceased to sound. 
Soon in the castle nought was heard, 
But the slow footstep of the guard, 

Pacing his sober round. 

XXXI. 

With early dawn Lord Marmion rose : 

And first the chapel doors unclose ; 

Then, after morning rites were done, 

(A hasty mass from Friar John,) 1 

And knight and squire had broke their fast, 

On rich substantial repast, 

Lord Marmion's bugles blew to horse : 

Then came the stirrup-cup in course : 

Between the Baron and his host, 

No point of courtesy was lost ; 

High thanks were by Lord Marmion paid, 

Solemn excuse the Captain made, 

rill, filing from the gate, had pass'd 

That noble train, their Lord the last. 

Then loudly rung the trumpet call ; 

Thunder'd the cannon from the wall, 

And shook the Scottish shore ; 
Around the castle eddied slow, 
Volumes of smoke as white as snow, 

And hid its turrets hoar ; 
Till they roll'd forth upon the air, 2 
And met the river breezes there, 
Which gave again the prospect fair. 

i ["In Catholic countries, in order to reconcile the pleasures of 
the great with the observances of religion, it was common, when a 
party was bent for the chase, to celebrate mass, abridged and 
maimed of its rites, called a hunting-mass, the brevity of which 
was designed to correspond with the impatience of the audience " 
—Note to " The Abbot" New Edit.~\ 

2 [MS. — " Slow they roll'd forth upon the air."] 



I 49 ] 



MARMION. 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 



REV. JOHN MARRIOTT, A.M. 



Ashestiel, Ettrick Forest. 

The scenes are desert now, and bare, 
Where flourish 'd once a forest fair, 1 
When these waste glens with copse were lined, 
And peopled with the hart and hind. 
Yon Thorn — perchance whose prickly spears 
Have fenced him for three hundred years, 
While fell around his green compeers — 
Yon lonely Thorn, would he could tell 
The changes of his parent dell, 
Since he, so grey and stubborn now, 
Waved in each breeze a sapling bough ; 
Would he could tell how deep the shade 
A thousand mingled branches made ; 

i [See Appendix, Note T.] 
D 



50 



How broad the shadows of the oak, 
How clung the rowan 1 to the rock, 
And through the foliage show'd his head, 
With narrow leaves and berries red ; 
What pines on every mountain sprung, 
O'er every dell what birches hung, 
In every breeze what aspens shook, 
What alders shaded every brook ! 

" Here, in my shade," methinks he'd say, 
" The mighty stag at noon-tide lay : 
The wolf I've seen, a fiercer game, 
(The neighbouring dingle bears his name.) 
With lurching step around me prowl, 
And stop, against the moon to howl ; 
The mountain-boar, on battle set, 
His tusks upon my stem would whet ; 
While doe, and roe, and red-deer good, 
Have bounded by, through gay green-wood. 
Then oft, from Newark's 2 riven tower, 
Sallied a Scottish monarch's power : 
A thousand vassals muster'd round, 
With horse, and hawk, and horn, and hound ; 
And I might see the youth intent, 
Guard every pass with crossbow bent ; 
And through the brake the rangers stalk, 
And falc'ners hold the ready hawk ; 
And foresters, in green-wood trim, 
Lead in the leash the gazehounds grim. 



1 Mountain-ash. 

[MS. — " How broad the ash his shadows flung, 
How to the rock the rowan clung."] 

2 [Sec Notes to the Lay of the Last Minstrel.] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 51 

Attentive, as the bratchet's 1 bay 
From the dark covert drove the prey, 
To slip them as he broke away. 
The startled quarry bounds amain, 
As fast the gallant greyhounds strain ; 
Whistles the arrow from the bow, 
Answers the harquebuss below ; 
While all the rocking hills reply, 
To hoof-clang, hound, and hunters' cry, 
And bugles ringing lightsomely." 

Of such proud huntings, many tales 
Yet linger in our lonely dales, 
Up pathless Ettrick and on Yarrow, 
Where erst the outlaw drew his arrow. 2 
But not more blithe that silvan court, 
Than we have been at humbler sport ; 
Though small our pomp, and mean our game, 
Our mirth, dear Marriott, was the same. 
Remember'st thou my greyhounds true ? 
O'er holt or hill there never flew, 
From slip or leash there never sprang, 
More fleet of foot, or sure of fang. 
Nor dull, between each merry chase, 
Pass'd by the intermitted space •, 
For we had fair resource in store, 
In Classic and in Gothic lore : 
We mark'd each memorable scene, 
And held poetic talk between ; 

1 Slowhound. 

2 The Tale of the Outlaw Murray, who held out Newark Castle 
and Ettrick Forest against the King, may be found in the Border 
Minstrelsy, vol. i. In the Macfarlane MS., among other causes of 
James the Fifth's charter to the burgh of Selkirk, is mentioned, 
that the citizens assisted him to suppress this dangerous outlaw. 



52 MARMION. 

Nor hill, nor brook we paced along, 
But had its legend or its song. 
All silent now — for now are still 
Thy bowers, untenanted Bowhill I 1 
No longer, from thy mountains dun, 
The yeoman hears the well-known gun, 
And while his honest heart glows warm, 
At thought of his paternal farm, 
Round to his mates a brimmer fills, 
And drinks, « The Chieftain of the Hills !" 
No fairy forms, in Yarrow's bowers, 
Trip o'er the walks, or tend the flowers, 
Fair as the elves whom Janet saw 
By moonlight dance on Carterhaugh ; 
No youthful Baron's left to grace 
The Forest-Sheriff's lonely chase, 
And ape, in manly step and tone, 
The majesty of Oberon : 2 
And she is gone, whose lovely face 
Is but her least and lowest grace ; 3 
Though if to Sylphid Queen 'twere given, 
To show our earth the charms of Heaven, 
She could not glide along the air, 
With form more light, or face more fair. 
No more the widow's deafen'd ear 
Grows quick that lady's step to hear : 
At noontide she expects her not, 
Nor busies her to trim the cot ; 

1 [A seat of the Duke of Buccleuch on the Yarrow, in Ettrick 
Forest. See Notes to the Lay of the Last Minstrel.] 

2 [Mr. Marriott was governor to the young nobleman here allu- 
ded to, George Henry, Lord Scott, son to Charles, Earl of Dalkeith, 
(afterwards Duke of Buccleuch andQueensberry,) who died early, 
in 1808.] 

3 [The four next lines on Harriet, Countess of Dalkeith, after- 
wards Duchess of Buccleuch, were not in the original MS.] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 53 

Pensive she turns her humming wheel, 
Or pensive cooks her orphans 1 meal ; 
Yet blesses, ere she deals their bread, 
The gentle hand by which they're fed. 

From Yair, — which hills so closely bind, 
Scarce can the Tweed his passage find, 
Though much he fret, and chafe, and toil, 
Till all his eddying currents boil, — 
Her long-descended lord 1 is gone, 
And left us by the stream alone, 
And much I miss those sportive boys, 2 
Companions of my mountain joys, 
Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth, 
When thought is speech, and speech is truth. 
Close to my side, with what delight 
They pressed to hear of Wallace wight, 
When, pointing to his airy mound, 
I call'd his ramparts holy ground ! 3 
Kindled their brows to hear me speak * 
And I have smiled, to feel my cheek, 
Despite the difference of our years, 
Return again the glow of theirs. 
Ah, happy boys ! such feelings pure, 
They will not, cannot, long endure ; 
Condemn'd to stem the world's rude tide, 
You may not linger by the side 5 
For Fate shall thrust you from the shore, 
And passion ply the sail and oar. 4 

1 [The late Alexander Pringle, Esq. of Whytbank, whose beau- 
tiful seat of the Yair stands on the Tweed, about two miles below 
Ashestiel, the then residence of the poet. J 

2 [The sons of Mr. Pringle of Whytbank.] 

3 There is. on a high mountainous ridge above the farm of 
Ashestiel, a fosse called Wallace's Trench, 

4 [MS.—" And youth shed? ply the sail and oar."]' 



54 



Yet cherish the remembrance still, 
Of the lone mountain, and the rill ; 
For trust, dear boys, the time will come, 
When fiercer transport shall be dumb, 
And you will think right frequently, 
But, well I hope, without a sigh, 
On the free hours that we have spent, 
Together, on the brown hill's bent. 

When, musing on companions gone, 

We doubly feel ourselves alone, 

Something, my friend, we yet may gain, 

There is a pleasure in this pain : 

It soothes the love of lonely rest, 

Deep in each gentler heart impress'd. 

'Tis silent amid worldly toils, 

And stifled soon by mental broils ; 

But, in a bosom thus prepared, 

Its still small voice is often heard, 

Whispering a mingled sentiment, 

'Twixt resignation and content. 

Oft in my mind such thoughts awake, 

By lone Saint Mary's silent lake. 1 

Thou know'st it well, — nor fen, nor sedge, 

Pollute the pure lake's crystal edge ; 

Abrupt and sheer, the mountains sink 

At once upon the level brink ; 

And just a trace of silver sand 2 

Marks where the water meets the land. 



1 [See Appendix, Note U.] 

2 [MS.-" At once upon the {fjj*£ } brink ; 

And just a line of pebbly sand." 



INTRODUCTION TO CA.NTO SECOND. 55 

Far in the mirror, bright and blue, 

Each hill's huge outline you may view -, 1 

Shaggy with heath, but lonely bare, 

Nor tree, nor bush, nor brake, is there, 

Save where, of land, yon slender line 

Bears thwart the lake the scatter'd pine. 

Yet even this nakedness has power 

And aids the feeling of the hour : 

Nor thicket, dell, nor copse you spy, 

Where living thing conceal'd might lie ; 

Nor point, retiring, hides a dell 

Where swain, or woodman lone, might dwell ; 

There's nothing left to fancy's guess, 

You see that all is loneliness : 

And silence aids — though the steep hills 

Send to the lake a thousand rills ; 

In summer tide, so soft they weep, 

The sound but lulls the ear asleep ; 

Your horse's hoof-tread sounds too rude, 

So stilly is the solitude. 

Nought living meets the eye or ear, 
But well I ween the dead are near \ 
For though, in feudal strife, a foe 
Hath laid Our Lady's chapel low, 2 
Yet still, beneath the hallow'd soil, 
The peasant rests him from his toil, 
And, dying, bids his bones be laid, 
Where erst his simple fathers pray'd. 



1 [MS.—" Far traced upon the lake you view 

The hills' | ba ° e | sides and sombre hue."] 

2 [See Appendix, Note V] 



56 MARMION. 

If age had tamed the passions 1 strife, 
And fate had cut my ties to life, 
Here, have I thought, 'twere sweet to dwell, 
And rear again the chaplain's cell, 
Like that same peaceful hermitage, 
Where Milton long'd to spend his age. 1 
'Twere sweet to mark the setting day, 
On Bourhope's lonely top decay ; 
And as it faint and feeble died 
On the broad lake, and mountain's side, 
To say, " Thus pleasures fade away •, 
Youth, talents, beauty, thus decay, 
And leave us dark, forlorn, and grey •," 
Then gaze on Dryhope's ruin'd tower, 
And think on Yarrow's faded Flower : 
And when that mountain- sound I heard, 
Which bids us be for storm prepared, 
The distant rustling of his wings, 
As up his force the Tempest brings, 
'Twere sweet, ere yet his terrors rave, 
To sit upon the Wizard's grave ; 
That Wizard Priest's, whose bones are thrust 
From company of holy dust \ % 

1 [" And may at last my weary age 
Find out the peaceful hermitage, 
The hairy gown and mossy cell, 
Where I may sit and rightly spell 
Of every star that heaven doth show, 
And every herb that sips the dew ; 
Till old experience do attain 
To something like prophetic strain." 

II Pcn$croso.~] 
2 At one corner of the burial-ground of the demolished chapel, 
but without its precincts, is a small mound, called Binram's Corse, 
where tradition deposits the remains of a necromantic priest, the 
former tenant of the chaplainry. His story much resembles that 
of Ambrosio in " The Monk," and has been made the theme of a 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 57 

On which no sunbeam ever shines — 
(So superstition's creed divines) — 
Thence view the lake, with sullen roar, 
Heave her broad billows to the shore ; 
And mark the wild-swans mount the gale, 
Spread wide through mist their snowy sail, 1 
And ever stoop again, to lave 
Their bosomsr on the surging wave : 
Then, when against the driving hail 
No longer might my plaid avail, 
Back to my lonely home retire, 
And light my lamp, and trim my fire ; 
There ponder o'er some mystic lay, 
Till the wild tale had all its sway, 2 
And, in the bittern's distant shriek, 

1 heard unearthly voices speak, 

And thought the Wizard Priest was come, 
To claim again his ancient home ! 
And bade my busy fancy range, 
To frame him fitting shape and strange, 
Till from the task my brow I clear'd, 3 
And smiled to think that I had fear'd. 

But chief, 'twere sweet to think such life, 
(Though but escape from fortune's strife,) 
Something most matchless good and wise, 
A great and grateful sacrifice ; 

ballad, by my friend Mr. James Hogg, more poetically designed 
the Ettrick Shepherd. To his volume, entitled " The Mountain 
Bard," which contains this, and many other legendary stories and 
ballads of great merit, I refer the curious reader. 

i [MS. — Spread through broad mist their snowy sail."] 

2 [MS.—" Till fancy wild had all her sway."] 

3 [MS.—" Till from the task my brain I clear'd."] 



58 MARMIOX. 

And deem each hour, to musing given, 
A step upon the road to heaven. 

Yet him, whose heart is ill at ease, 
Such peaceful solitudes displease : 
He loves to drown his bosom's jar 
Amid the elemental war : 
And my black Palmer's choice had been 
Some ruder and more savage scene, 
Like that which frowns round dark Loch-skene. 1 
There eagles scream from isle to shore ; 
Down all the rocks the torrents roar ; 
O'er the black waves incessant driven, 
Dark mists infect the summer heaven ; 
Through the rude barriers of the lake, 
Away its hurrying waters break, 
Faster and whiter dash and curl, 
Till down yon dark abyss they hurl. 
Rises the fog-smoke white as snow, 
Thunders the viewless stream below, 
Diving, as if condemn'd to lave 
Some demon's subterranean cave, 
Who, prison'd by enchanter's spell, 
Shakes the dark rock with groan and yell. 

i Loch-skene is a mountain lake, of considerable size, at the 
head of the Moffat-water. The character of the scenery is uncom- 
monly savage ; and the earn, or Scottish eagle, has, for many ages, 
built its nest yearly upon an islet in the lake. Loch-skene dis- 
charges itself into a brook, which, after a short and precipitate 
course, falls from a cataract of immense height, and gloomy gran- 
deur, called, from its appearance, the "Grey Mare's Tail." The 
"Giant's Grave," afterwards mentioned, is a sort of trench, which 
bears that name, a little way from the foot of the cataract. It 
has the appearance of a battery, designed to command the pass. 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 59 

And well that Palmer's form and mien 
Had suited with the stormy scene, 
Just on the edge, straining his ken 
To view the bottom of the den, 
Where, deep deep down, and far within, 
Toils with the rocks the roaring linn ; 
Then, issuing forth one foamy wave, 
And wheeling round the Giant's Grave, 
White as the snowy charger's tail, 
Drives down the pass of MofFatdale. 

Marriott, thy harp, on Isis strung, 
To many a Border theme has rung : J 
Then list to me, and thou shalt know 
Of this mysterious Man of Woe. 

1 [See various ballads by Mr. Marriott, in the 4th volume of the 
Border Minstrelsy, new edition.] 



[ CO } 



MARMION. 



CANTO SECOND. 



&f)t €anbtnt. 



I. 

The breeze, which swept away the smoke, 

Round Norham Castle rolPd, 
When all the loud artillery spoke, 
With lightning-flash, and thunder-stroke, 

As Marmion left the Hold. 
It curl'd not Tweed alone, that breeze, 
For, far upon Northumbrian seas, 

It freshly blew and strong, 
Where, from high Whitby's cloister'd pile, 1 
Bound to St. Cuthbert's Holy Isle, 2 

It bore a bark along. 
Upon the gale she stoop'd her side, 
And bounded o'er the swelling tide, 

1 See Appendix, Note W. 

2 See Appendix, Note X. 



Canto II. THE CONVENT. 6] 

As she were dancing home ; 
The merry seamen laugh 'd, to see 
Their gallant ship so lustily 

Furrow the green sea-foam. 
Much joy'd they in their honour 'd freight 
For, on the deck, in chair of state, 
The Abbess of Saint Hilda placed, 
With five fair nuns, the galley graced. 

II. 

'Twas sweet to see these holy maids, 
Like birds escaped to green-wood shades, 

Their first flight from the cage, 
How timid, and how curious too, 
For all to them was strange and new, 
And all the common sights they view, 

Their wonderment engage. 
One eyed the shrouds and swelling sail, 

With many a benedicite ; 
One at the rippling surge grew pale, 

And would for terror pray ; 
Then shriek'd, because the seadog, nigh, 
His round black head, and sparkling eye, 

RearM o*er the foaming spray ; 
And one would still adjust her veil, 
Disorder'd by the summer gale, 
Perchance lest some more worldly eye 
Her dedicated charms might spy ; 
Perchance, because such action graced 
Her fair-turn'd arm and slender waist. 
Light was each simple bosom there, 
Save two, who ill might pleasure share, — 
The Abbess, and the Novice Clare. 



62 MARMION. Canto II. 

III. 

The Abbess was of noble blood, 
But early took the veil and hood, 
Ere upon life she cast a look, 
Or knew the world that she forsook. 
Fair too she was, and kind had been 
As she was fair, but ne'er had seen 
For her a timid lover sigh, 
Nor knew the influence of her eye. 
Love, to her ear, was but a name, 
Combined with vanity and shame ; 
Her hopes, her fears, her joys, were all 
Bounded within the cloister wall : 
The deadliest sin her mind could reach, 
Was of monastic rule the breach ; 
And her ambition's highest aim 
To emulate Saint Hilda's fame. 
For this she gave her ample dower, 1 
To raise the convent's eastern tower ; 
For this, with carving rare and quaint, 
She deck'd the chapel of the saint, 
And gave the relic-shrine of cost, 
With ivory and gems emboss'd. 
The poor her Convent's bounty blest, 
The pilgrim in its halls found rest. 

IV. 

Black was her garb, her rigid rule 
Reform 'd on Benedictine school ; 
Her cheek was pale, her form was spare ; 
Vigils, and penitence austere, 

1 [MS. " 'Twas she that gave her ample dower . . . 
'Twas she, with carving rare and quaint, 
IVho deck'd the chapel of the saint."] 



Canto II. THE CONVENT. 63 

Had early quench'd the light of youth 9 
But gentle was the dame, in sooth ; 
Though, vain of her religious sway, 
She loved to see her maids obey, 
Yet nothing stern was she in cell, 
And the nuns loved their Abbess well. 
Sad was this voyage to the dame ; 
Surnmon'd to Lindisfarne, she came, 
There, with Saint Cuthbert's Abbot old, 
And Tynemouth's Prioress, to hold 
A chapter of Saint Benedict, 
For inquisition stern and strict, 
On two apostates from the faith, 
And, if need were, to doom to death. 

V. 

Nought say I here of Sister Clare, 
Save this, that she was young and fair ; 
As yet a novice unprofess'd, 
Lovely and gentle, but distress'd. 
She was betroth 'd to one now dead, 
Or worse, who had dishonour'd fled. 
Her kinsmen bade her give her hand 
To one who loved her for her land ; 
Herself, almost heart-broken now, 
Was bent to take the vestal vow, 
And shroud, within Saint Hilda's gloom, 
Her blasted hopes and wither 'd bloom. 

VI. 

She sate upon the galley's prow, 
And seem'd to mark the waves below ; 
Nay, seem'd, so fixed her look and eye, 
To count them as they glided by. 



64 marmion. Canto II. 

She saw them not — 'twas seeming all — 
Far other scene her thoughts recall, — 
A sun-scorch'd desert, waste and bare, 
Nor waves, nor breezes, murmur 'd there ; 
There she saw, where some careless hand 
O'er a dead corpse had heap'd the sand. 
To hide it till the jackals come, 

To tear it from the scanty tomb 

See what a woful look was given, 
As she raised up her eyes to heaven ! 

VII. 

Lovely, and gentle, and distress'd — 

These charms might tame the fiercest breast : 

Harpers have sung, and poets told, 

That he, in fury uncontroll'd, 

The shaggy monarch of the wood, 

Before a virgin, fair and good, 

Hath pacified his savage mood. 

But passions in the human frame, 

Oft put the lion's rage to shame : 

And jealousy by dark intrigue, 

With sordid avarice in league, 

Hath practised with their bowl and knife, 

Against the mourner's harmless life. 

This crime was charged 'gainst those who lay 

Prison'd in Cuthbert's islet grey. 

VIII. 

And now the vessel skirts the strand 
Of mountainous Northumberland ; 
Towns, towers, and halls, successive rise, 
And catch the nuns' delighted eves. 



Canto II. THE CONVENT. 65 

Monk-Wearmouth soon beheld them lay, 

And Tynemouth's priory and bay ; 

They mark'd, amid her trees, the hall 

Of lofty Seaton-Delaval ; 

They saw the Blythe and Wansbeck floods 

Rush to the sea through sounding woods ; 

They pass'd the tower of Widderington, 1 

Mother of many a valiant son ; 

At Coquet-isle their beads they tell 

To the good Saint who own'd the cell ; 

Then did the Alne attention claim, 

And Warkworth, proud of Percy's name ; 

And next, they cross'd themselves, to hear 

The whitening breakers sound so near, 

Where, boiling through the rocks, they roar 

On Dunstanborough's cavern'd shore ; 

Thy tower, proud Bamborough, mark'd they there, 

King Ida's castle, huge and square, 

From its tall rock look grimly down, 

And on the swelling ocean frown ; 

Then from the coast they bore away, 

And reach'd the Holy Island's bay. 

IX. 

The tide did now its flood-mark gain, 
And girdled in the Saint's domain ; 
For, with the flow and ebb, its style 
Varies from continent to isle ; 
Dry-shod, o'er sands, twice every day, 
The pilgrims to the shrine find way ; 
Twice every day, the waves efface 
Of staves and sandall'd feet the trace, 

1 [See the notes on Chevy Chase. — Percy's Rcliques. 1 
E 



66 marmion. Ccnito II. 

As to the port the galley flew, 
Higher and higher rose to view 
The Castle with its battled walls, 
The ancient Monastery's halls, 
A solemn, huge, and dark-red pile, 
Placed on the margin of the isle. 

X. 

In Saxon strength that Abbey frown 'd, 
With massive arches broad and round, 
That rose alternate, row and row, 
On ponderous columns, short and low, 

Built ere the art was known, 
By pointed aisle, and shafted stalk, 
The arcades of an alley 'd walk 

To emulate in stone. 
On the deep walls, the heathen Dane 
Had pour'd his impious rage in vain ; 
And needful was such strength to these, 
Exposed to the tempestuous seas, 
Scourged by the winds" eternal sway, 
Open to rovers fierce as they, 
Which could twelve hundred years withstand 
Winds, waves, and northern pirates' hand. 
Not but that portions of the pile, 
Rebuilded in a later style, 
Show'd where the spoiler's hand had been ; 
Not but the wasting sea-breeze keen 
Had worn the pillar's carving quaint, 
And moulder'd in his niche the saint, 
And rounded, with consuming power, 
The pointed angles of each tower ; 
Yet still entire the Abbey stood, 
Like veteran, worn, but unsubdued. 



Canto II. THE CONVENT. 67 

XL 

Soon as they near'd his turrets strong, 
The maidens raised Saint Hilda's song, 
And with the sea-wave and the wind, 
Their voices, sweetly shrill, combined, 
And made harmonious close ; 

Then, answering from the sandy shore, 

Half-drownM amid the breakers' roar, 
According chorus rose : 

Down to the haven of the Isle, 

The monks and nuns in order file, 

From Cuthbert's cloisters grim ; 
Banner, and cross, and relics there, 
To meet Saint Hilda's maids, they bare ; 
And, as they caught the sounds on air, 

They echoed back the hymn. 
The islanders, in joyous mood, 
Rush'd emulously through the flood, 

To hale the bark to land ; 
Conspicuous by her veil and hood, 
Signing the cross the Abbess stood, 

And bless'd them with her hand. 

XII. 

Suppose we now the welcome said, 
Suppose the Convent banquet made : 

All through the holy dome, 
Through cloister, aisle, and gallery, 
Wherever vestal maid might pry, 
Nor risk to meet unhallow'd eye, 

The stranger sisters roam : 
Till fell the evening damp with dew, 
And the sharp sea-breeze coldly blew, 



68 MARMION. Canto II. 

For there even summer night is chill. 
Then, having stray'd and gazed their fill, 

They closed around the fire ; 
And all, in turn, essay 'd to paint 
The rival merits of their saint, 

A theme that ne'er can tire 
A holy maid ; for, be it known, 
That their saint's honour is their own. 

XIII. 

Then Whitby's nuns exulting told, 
How to their house three barons bold 

Must menial service do ; 1 
While horns blow out a note of shame, 
And monks cry " Fye upon your name ! 
In wrath, for loss of silvan game, 

Saint Hilda's priest ye slew." — 
" This, on Ascension-day, each year, 
While labouring on our harbour-pier, 
Must Herbert, Bruce, and Percy hear." — 
They told, how in their convent cell 
A Saxon princess once did dwell, 

The lovely Edelfled; 2 
And how, of thousand snakes, each one 
Was changed into a coil of stone, 

When holy Hilda pray'd ; 
Themselves, within their holy bound, 
Their stony folds had often found. 

1 See Appendix, Note Y. 

2 She was the daughter of King Oswy, who, in gratitude to 
Heaven for the great victory which he won in 655, against Penda, 
the pagan King of Mercia, dedicated Edelfleda, then but a year 
old, to the service of God, in the monastery of Whitby, of which 
St. Hilda was then abbess. She afterwards adorned the place of 
her education with great magnificence. 



Canto IT. the convent. 69 

They told, how sea-fowls' pinions fail, 
As over Whitby's towers they sail, 1 
And, sinking down, with nutterings faint, 
They do their homage to the saint. 

XIV. 

Nor did Saint Cuthbert's daughters fail, 

To vie with these in holy tale ; 

His body's resting-place, of old, 

How oft their patron changed, they told ; 2 

How, when the rude Dane burn'd their pile, 

The monks fled forth from Holy Isle ; 

O'er northern mountain, marsh, and moor, 

From sea to sea, from shore to shore, 

Seven years Saint Cuthbert's corpse they bore. 

They rested them in fair Melrose ; 
But though, alive, he loved it well, 

Not there his relics might repose ; 
For, wondrous tale to tell ! 

In his stone-coffin forth he rides, 

A ponderous bark for river tides, 

Yet light as gossamer it glides, 
Downward to Tilmouth cell, 
Nor long was his abiding there, 
For southward did the saint repair ; 
Chester-le-Street, and Rippon, saw 
His holy corpse, ere Wardilaw 

Hail'd him with joy and fear ; 
And. after many wanderings past, 
He choose his lordly seat at last, 
Where his cathedral, huge and vast, 

Looks down upon the Wear : 

i See Appendix, Note Z. 
2 See Appendix, Note 2 A. 



70 marmiox. Canto II 

There, deep in Durham's Gothic shade, 
His relics are in secret laid ; 

But none may know the place, 
Save of his holiest servants three, 
Deep sworn to solemn secrecy, 

Who share that wondrous grace. 

XV. 

Who may his miracles declare ! 

Even Scotland's dauntless king, and heir, 

(Although with them they led 
Galwegians, wild as ocean's gale, 
And Lodon's knights, all sheathed in mail, 
And the bold men of Teviotdale,) 

Before his standard fled. 1 
'Twas he, to vindicate his reign, 
Edged Alfred's falchion on the Dane, 
And turn'd the Conqueror back again, 
When, with his Norman bowyer band, 
He came to waste Northumberland. 

XVI. 

But fain St. Hilda's nuns would learn 
If, on a rock, by Lindisfarne, 
Saint Cuthbert sits, and toils to frame 
The sea-born beads that bear his name: 2 
Such tales had Whitby's fishers told, 
And said they might his shape behold, 

And hear his anvil sound 5 
A deaden'd clang, — a huge dim form, 
Seen but, and heard, when gathering storm 5 

1 See Appendix, Note 2 B. 

2 See Appendix, Note 2 C. 

8 [MS.—" Seen out// when the gathering storm."] 



Canto II. THE CONVENT. 71 

And night were closing round. 
But this, as tale of idle fame, 
The nuns of Lindisfarne disclaim. 

XVII. 

While round the fire such legends go, 
Far different was the scene of woe, 
Where, in a secret aisle beneath, 
Council was held of life and death. 

It was more dark and lone that vault, 
Than the worst dungeon cell : 

Old Colwulf 1 built it, for his fault, 
In penitence to dwell, 
When he, for cowl and beads, laid down 
The Saxon battle-axe and crown. 
This den, which, chilling every sense 

Of feeling, hearing, sight, 
Was caird the Vault of Penitence, 

Excluding air and light, 
Was, by the prelate Sexhelm, made 
A place of burial for such dead, 
As, having died in mortal sin, 
Might not be laid the church within. 
'Twas now a place of punishment ; 
Whence if so loud a shriek were sent, 

As reach M the upper air, 
The hearers bless'd themselves, and said, 
The spirits of the sinful dead 

Bemoan 'd their torments there. 

XVIII. 

But though, in the monastic pile, 
Did of this penitential aisle 
l See Appendix, Note 2 D, 



7'2 MARMION, Ca?ito IT. 

Some vague tradition go, 
Few only, save the Abbot, knew 
Where the place lay ; and still more few 
Were those, who had from him the clew 

To that dread vault to go. 
Victim and executioner 
Were blindfold when transported there. 
In low dark rounds the arches hung, 
From the rude rock the side-walls sprung ; 
The grave-stones, rudely sculptured o'er, 
Half sunk in earth, by time half wore, 
Were all the pavement of the floor ; 
The mildew-drops fell one by one, 
With tinkling plash upon the stone. 
A cresset, 1 in an iron chain, 2 
Which served to light this drear domain 
With damp and darkness seem'd to strive, 
As if it scarce might keep alive ; 
And yet it dimly served to show 
The awful conclave met below. 

XIX. 

There, met to doom in secrecy. 

Were placed the heads of convents three : 

All servants of Saint Benedict, 

The statutes of whose order strict 

On iron table lay ; 3 
In long black dress, on seats of stone, 
Behind were these three judges shown 

By the pale cresset's ray : 

1 Antique chandelier. 

2 [MS. — M Suspended by an iron chain, 

A cresset showed this I i^.\ domain."] 

3 [MS.—" On Stony table lay."] 



Canto II. THE CONVENT. 

The A bbess of Saint. Hilda's, there, 
Sat for a space with visage bare, 
Until, to hide her bosom's swell, 
And tear-drops that for pity fell, 

She closely drew her veil : 
Yon shrouded figure, as I guess, 
By her proud mien and flowing dress, 
Is Tvnemouth's haughty Prioress, 1 

And she with awe looks pale : 
And he, that Ancient Man, whose sight 
Has long been quench'd by age's night, 
Upon whose wrinkled brow alone, 
Nor ruth, nor mercy's trace, is shown, 

Whose look is hard and stern, — 
Saint Cuthj^ej^s Abbot is his style \ 
For sanctityj call'd, through the isle, 

The Sainlj of Lindisfarne. 

XX. 

Before them stood a guilty pair ; 
But, though an equal fate they share, 
Yet one alone deserves our care. 
Her sex a page's dress belied ; 
The cloak and doublet, loosely tied, 
Obscured her charms, but could not hide. 

Her cap down o'er her face she drew ; 
And, on her doublet breast, 

She tried to hide the badge of blue, 
Lord Marmion's falcon crest. 
But, at the Prioress' command, 
A Monk undid the silken band, 

That tied her tresses fair, 

J See Appendix, Note 2 E, 



74 marmion. Canto II. 

And raised the bonnet from her head, 
And down her slender form they spread, 

In ringlets rich and rare. 
Constance de Beverley they know, 
Sister profess'd of Fontevraud, 
Whom the church number'd with the dead, 
For broken vows, and convent fled. 

XXI. 

When thus her face was given to view, 
(Although so pallid was her hue, 
It did a ghastly contrast bear 
To those bright ringlets glistering fair,) 
Her look composed, and steady eye, 
Bespoke a matchless constancy ; 
And there she stood so calm and pale, 
That, but her breathing did not fail, 
And motion slight of eye and head, 
And of her bosom, warranted 
That neither sense nor pulse she lacks, 
You might have thought a form of wax, 
Wrought to the very life, was there -, 
So still she was, so pale, so fair. 1 



i "[I sent for 'Marmion,' because it occurred to me there might 
be a resemblance between part of ' Parisina,' and a similar scene 
in the second canto of ' Marmion.' I fear there is, though I never 
thought of it before, and could hardly wish to imitate that which 
is inimitable. I wish you would ask Mr. Gifford whether I ought 
to say any thing upon it. I had completed the story on the passage 
from Gibbon, which indeed leads to a like scene naturally, without 
a thought of the kind ; but it comes upon me not very comfort- 
ably."— Lord Byron to Mr. Murray, Feb. 3, 1816.— Compare ; 

*'.... Parisina's fatal charms 
Again attracted every eye- 
Would she thus hear him doom'd to die ! 



Canto II. THE CONVENT. 75 

XXII. 

Her comrade was a sordid soul, 

Such as does murder for a meed ; 
Who, but of fear, knows no control, 
Because his conscience, sear'd and foul, 

Feels not the import of his deed ; 
One, whose brute-feeling ne'er aspires 1 
Beyond his own more brute desires, 
Such tools the Tempter ever needs, 
To do the savagest of deeds ; 
For them no vision'd terrors daunt, 
Their nights no fancied spectres haunt, 
One fear with them, of all most base, 
The fear of death, — alone finds place. 

She stood, I said, all pale and still, 

The living cause of Hugo's ill ; 

Her eyes unmoved, but full and wide, 

Not once had turn'd to either side — 

Nor once did those sweet eyelids close, 

Or shade the glance o'er which they rose, 

But round their orbs of deepest blue 

The circling white dilated grew — 

And there with glassy gaze she stood 

As ice were in her curdled blood ; 

But every now and then a tear 
So large and slowly gather'd slid 
From the long dark fringe of that fair lid, 

It was a thing to see, not hear ! 

And those who saw, it did surprise, 

Such drops could fall from human eyes. 

To speak she thought— the imperfect note 

Was choked within her swelling throat, 

Yet seem'd in that low hollow groan 

Her whole heart gushing in the tone." 

Byron's Works, vol. x. p. 171.] 

1 [In some recent editions this word had been erroneously printed 
" inspires." The MS. has the correct line : 

" One whose brute-feeling ne'er aspires"] 



7(5 marmion. Canto II 

This wretch was clad in frock and cowl, 
And shamed not loud to moan and howl, 
His body on the floor to dash, 
And crouch, like hound beneath the l?.sh ; 
While his mute partner, standing near, 
Waited her doom without a tear. 

XXIII. 

Yet well the luckless wretch might shriek, 
Well might her paleness terror speak ! 
For there were seen in that dark wall, 
Two niches, narrow, deep, and tall ; — 
Who enters at such grisly door, 
Shall ne'er, I ween, find exit more. 
In each a slender meal was laid, 
Of roots, of water, and of bread : 
By each, in Benedictine dress, 
Two haggard monks stood motionless ; 
Who, holding high a blazing torch, 
Show'd the grim entrance of the porch : 
Reflecting back the smoky beam, 
The dark-red walls and arches gleam. 
Hewn stones and cement were display'd, 
And building tools in order laid. 

XXIV. 

These executioners were chose, 
As men who were with mankind foes, 
And with despite and envy fired, 
Into the cloister had retired ; 

Or who, in desperate doubt of grace, 

Strove, by deep penance, to efface 
Of some foul crime the stain \ 



Canto II. THE CONVENT. 77 

For, as the vassals of her will, 
Such men the Church selected still, 
As either joyM in doing ill, 

Or thought more grace to gain, 

If, in her cause, they wrestled down 

Feelings their nature strove to own. 

By strange device were they brought there, 

They knew not how, nor knew not where. 

XXV. 
And now that blind old Abbot rose, 

To speak the Chapter's doom, 
On those the wall was to enclose, 

Alive, within the tomb ; l 
But stopp'd, because that woful Maid, 
Gathering her powers, to speak essay'd. 
Twice she essay "d, and twice in vain ; 
Her accents might no utterance gain ; 
Nought but imperfect murmurs slip 
From her convulsed and quivering lip ; 

'Twixt each attempt all was so still, 

You seem'd to hear a distant rill — 

1 It is well known, that the religious, who broke their vows of 
chastity, were subjected to the same penalty as the Roman vestals 
in a similar case. A small niche, sufficient to enclose their bo- 
dies, was made in the massive wall of the convent ; a slender pit- 
tance of food and water was deposited in it, and the awful words, 
Vade in Pace, were the signal for immuring the criminal. It is 
not likely that, in latter times, this punishment was often resorted 
to ; but among the ruins of the abbey of Coldingham, were some 
years ago discovered the remains of a female skeleton, which, 
from the shape of the niche, and position of the figure, seemed to 
be that of an immured nun. 

[The Edinburgh Reviewer, on st. xxxii. post, suggests that the 
proper reading of the sentence is vade in pacem — not pari in peace, 
but go into peace, or into eternal rest, a pretty intelligible mittimus 
to another world.-— Ed.] 



7 8 MARMION. Canto If, 

'Twas ocean's swells and falls ; 
For though this vault of sin and fear 
Was to the sounding surge so near, 
A tempest there you scarce could hear, 

So massive were the walls. 

XXVI. 

At length, an effort sent apart 

The blood that curdled to her heart, 

And light came to her eye, 
And colour dawn'd upon her cheek, 
A hectic and a flutter'd streak, 1 
Like that left on the Cheviot peak, 

By Autumn's stormy sky ; 
And when her silence broke at length, 
Still as she spoke she gather'd strength. 

And arm'd herself to bear. 
It was a fearful sight to see 
Such high resolve and constancy, 

In form so soft and fair. 2 

XXVII. 

" I speak not to implore your grace, 3 
Well know I, for one minute's space 

• [MS.—" A feeble and a flutter d streak, 

Like that with which the mornings break 
In Autumn's sober sky."] 
2 [MS. — " And mann'd herself to bear. 
It was a fearful thing to see 
Such high resolve and constancy, 

In form so soft and fair ; 
Like Summer's deiv her accents fell, 
But dreadful was her tale to tell.'"] 
3 [MS. — " 1 speak not now to sue for grace, 
For well I know one minute's space 
Your mercy scarce would grant : 



Canto II. THE CONVENT, 79 

Successless might I sue : 
Nor do I speak your prayers to gain ; 
For if a death of lingering pain, 
To cleanse my sins, be penance vain, 

Vain are your masses too.—, 
I listen 'd to a traitor's tale, 
I left the convent and the veil ; 
For three long years I bow'd my pride, 
A horse-boy in his train to ride ; 
And well my folly's meed he gave, 
Who forfeited, to be his slave, 

All here, and all beyond the grave 

He saw young Clara's face more fair, 
He knew her of broad lands the heir, 
Forgot his vows, his faith forswore, 
And Constance was beloved no more 

'Tis an old tale, and often told ; 
But did my fate and wish agree, 

Ne'er had been read in story old, 

Of maiden true betray 'd for gold, 
That loved, or was avenged, like me ! 

Nor do I speak your prayers to gain ; 
For if my penance be in vain, 

Your prayers I cannot want. 
Full well I know the church's doom, 
What time I left a convent's gloom, 

To fly with him I loved ; 
And well my folly's meed he gave — 
I forfeited, to be a slave, 
All here, and all beyond the grave, 

And faithless hath he proved ; 
He saw another's face more fair, 
He saw her of broad lands the heir, 

And Constance loved no more — 
Lov'd her no more, who, once Heaven's bride, 
Now a scorned menial by his side, 

Had wander'd Europe o'er."] 



80 MARMION. Canto II. 

XXVIII. 

" The King approved his favourite's aim ; 
In vain a rival barr'd his claim, 

Whose fate with Clare's was plight, 
For he attaints that rival's fame 
With treason's charge — and on they came, 

In mortal lists to fight. 
Their oaths are said, 
Their prayers are pray'd, 
Their lances in the rest are laid, 

They meet in mortal shock ; 
And, hark ! the throng, with thundering cry, 
Shout ' Marmion, Marmion ! to the sky, 

De Wilton to the block P 
Say ye, who preach Heaven shall decide 1 
When in the lists two champions ride, 

Say, was Heaven's justice here ? 
When, loyal in his love and faith, 
Wilton found overthrow or death, 

Beneath a traitor's spear ? 
How false the charge, how true he fell, 
This guilty packet best can tell." — 
Then drew a packet from her breast. 
Paused, gather'd voice, and spoke the rest. 

XXIX. 

" Still was false Marmion's bridal staid ; 
To Whitby's convent fled the maid, 

The hated match to shun. 
4 Ho ! shifts she thus ?' King Henry cried, 
' Sir Marmion, she shall be thy bride, 

If she were sworn a nun.' 

i [MS.— " Say ye, who preach the heavens decide 
When in the lists the warriors ride."] 



Canto II. THE CONVENT, 81 

One way remain 'd — the King's command 
Sent Marmion to the Scottish land : 
I linger'd here, and rescue plann'd 

For Clara and for me : 
This caitiff Monk, for gold, did swear, 
He would to Whitby's shrine repair, 
And, by his drugs, my rival fair 

A saint in heaven should be. 
But ill the dastard kept his oath, 
Whose cowardice has undone us both: 

XXX. 

" And now my tongue the secret tells, 
Not that remorse my bosom swells, 
But to assure my soul that none 
Shall ever wed with Marmion. 1 
Had fortune my last hope betray'd, 
This packet, to the King convey'd, 
Had given him to the headsman's stroke, 

Although my heart that instant broke 

Now, men of death, work forth your will, 
For I can suffer and be still ; 
And come he slow, or come he fast, 
It is but death who comes at last. 

XXXI. 

" Yet dread me, from my living tomb, 
Ye vassal slaves of bloody Rome ! 
If Marmion's late remorse should wake, 
Full soon such vengeance will he take, 
That you shall wish the fiery Dane 
Had rather been your guest again. 

i [The MS. adds—" His schemes reveal'd, his honour gone."] 



82 marmion. Canto II. 

Behind, a darker hour ascends ! 
The altars quake, the crosier bends, 
The ire of a despotic King 
Rides forth upon destruction's wing ; 
Then shall these vaults, so strong and deep, 
Burst open to the sea-winds' sweep ; 
Some traveller then shall find my bones 
Whitening amid disjointed stones, 
And, ignorant of priests' cruelty, 1 
Marvel such relics here should be.' 1 

XXXII. 

Fix'd was her look, and stern her air. 
Back from her shoulders stream 'd her hair ; 
The locks, that wont her brow to shade, 
Stared up erectly from her head ; 2 
Her figure seem'd to rise more high : 
Her voice, despair's wild energy 
Had given a tone of prophecy. 
Appall'd the astonish'd conclave sate ; 
With stupid eyes, the men of fate 
Gazed on the light inspired form, 
And listen'd for the avenging storm ; 
The judges felt the victim's dread ; 
No hand was moved, no word was said, 
Till thus the Abbot's doom was given, 
Raising his sightless balls to heaven ; — 
" Sister, let thy sorrows cease ; 
Sinful brother, part in peace !'* 5 

1 [MS. — " And, witless of priests' cruelty."] 

2 [MS.—" Started up ( a9 P irin S ) from her head. "1 

r k. uncurling ) 

3 [See Note on Stanza xxv. ante, p. 77 ] 



Canto II. THE CONVENT. 33 

From that dire dungeon, place of doom, 
Of execution too, and tomb, 

Paced forth the judges three ; 
Sorrow it were, and shame, to tell 
The butcher- work that there befell, 
When they had glided from the cell 

Of sin and misery. 

XXXIII. 

An hundred winding steps convey . 
That conclave to the upper day ; x 
But, ere they breathed the fresher air, 
They heard the shriekings of despair, 

And many a stifled groan : 
With speed their upward way they take, 
(Such speed as age and fear can make,) 
And cross'd themselves for terror's sake, 

As hurrying, tottering on : 
Even in the vesper's heavenly tone, 2 
They seem'd to hear a dying groan, 
And bade the passing knell to toll 
For welfare of a parting soul. 
Slow o'er the midnight wave it swung, 
Northumbrian rocks in answer rung ; 
To Warkworth cell the echoes roll'd, 
His beads the wakeful hermit told, 
The Bamborough peasant raised his head, 
But slept ere half a prayer he said ; 

1 [MS.—" From that dark penance vault to day.' ] 

2 [MS. — " That night amid the vesper's swell, 

They thought they heard Constantia's yell, 
And bade the mighty bell to toll, 
For welfare of a passing soul."! 



84 marmion. Canto II. 

So far was heard the mighty knell, 
The stag sprung up on Cheviot Fell, 
Spread his broad nostril to the wind, 
Listed before, aside, behind, 
Then couch'd him down beside the hind, 
And quaked among the mountain fern, 
To hear that sound, so dull and stern. 



85 ] 



MARMION. 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD, 



TO 

WILLIAM ERSKINE, Esq. 1 

Ashestiel, Ettrick Forest, 

Like April morning clouds, that pass, 
With varying shadow, o'er the grass, 
And imitate, on field and furrow, 
Life's chequer'd scene of joy and sorrow •> 
Like streamlet of the mountain north, 
Now in a torrent racing forth, 
Now winding slow its silver train, 
And almost slumbering on the plain ; 
Like breezes of the autumn day, 
Whose voice inconstant dies away, 

1 [William Erskine, Esq. advocate, sheriff-depute of the Ork- 
neys, became a Judge of the Court of Session by the title of Lord 
Kinnedder, and died at Edinburgh in August, 1822. He had been 
from early youth the most intimate of the Poet's friends, and his 
chief confidant and adviser as to all literary matters. See a notice 
of his life and character by the late Mr. Hay Donaldson, to which 
Sir Walter Scott contributed several paragraphs. — Ed."} 



C6 



And ever swells again as fast, 

When the ear deems its murmur past ; 

Thus various, my romantic theme 

Flits, winds, or sinks, a morning dream. 

Yet pleased, our eye pursues the trace 

Of Light and Shade's inconstant race ; 

Pleased, views the rivulet afar, 

Weaving its maze irregular ; 

And pleased, we listen as the breeze 

Heaves its wild sigh through Autumn trees ; 

Then, wild as cloud, or stream, or gale, 

Flow on, flow unconfined, my Tale ! 

Need I to thee, dear Erskine, tell 
I love the license all too well, 
In sounds now lowly, and now strong, 
To raise the desultory song ? — 1 
Oft, when 'mid such capricious chime, 
Some transient fit of lofty rhyme 
To thy kind judgment seem'd excuse 
For many an error of the muse, 
Oft hast thou said, " If, still mis- spent, 
Thine hours to poetry are lent, 2 
Go, and to tame thy wandering course, 
Quaff from the fountain at the source ; 
Approach those masters, o'er whose tomb 
Immortal laurels ever bloom : 
Instructive of the feebler bard, 
Still from the grave their voice is heard ; 
From them, and from the paths they show'd, 
Choose honour'd guide and practised road •, 

1 [MS.— " With sound now lowly, and now higher, 

Irregular to wake the lyre.] 

2 [MS.—" Thine hours to thrtfde. s rhyme are lent.""] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD. 

Nor ramble on through brake and maze, 
With harpers rude of barbarous days. 

" Or deem'st thou not our later time 1 
Yields topic meet for classic rhyme ? 
Hast thou no elegiac verse 
For Brunswick's venerable hearse ? 
What ! not a line, a tear, a sigh, 
When valour bleeds for liberty ? — 
Oh, hero of that glorious time, 
When, with unrivall'd light sublime, — 
Though martial Austria, and though all 
The might of Russia, and the Gaul, 
Though banded Europe stood her foes — 
The star of Brandenburgh arose ! 
Thou couldst not live to see her beam 
For ever quench 'd in Jena's stream. 
Lamented Chief! — it was not given 
To thee to change the doom of Heaven, 
And crush that dragon in its birth, 
Predestined scourge of guilty earth. 
Lamented Chief ! — not thine the power, 
To save in that presumptuous hour, 
When Prussia hurried to the field, 
And snatch 'd the spear, but left the shield ! 
Valour and skill 'twas thine to try, 
And, tried in vain, 'twas thine tf> die. 

i 

IJMS.- 1 — " Dost thou not deem our" later day 
Yields topic meet for classic lay ? 
Hast thou no elegiac tone 
To join that universal moan, 
Which mingled with the battle's yell. 
Where venerable Brunswick fell ? — 
What ! not a verse, a tear, a sigh, 
When valour bleeds for liberty ?""] 



Ill had it seem'd thy silver hair 

The last, the bitterest pang to share, 

For princedoms reft, and scutcheons riven, 

And birthrights to usurpers given ; 

Thy land's, thy children's wrongs to feel, 

And witness woes thou couldst not heal ! 

On thee relenting Heaven bestows 

For honour'd life an honour'd close -, 1 

And when revolves, in time's sure change, 

The hour of Germany's revenge, 

When, breathing fury for her sake, 

Some new Arminius shall awake, 

Her champion, ere he strike, shall come 

To whet his sword on Brunswick's tomb. 

" Or of the Red-Cross hero 2 teach 
Dauntless in dungeon as on breach : 
Alike to him the sea, the shore, 
The brand, the bridle, or the oar : 
Alike to him the war that calls 
Its votaries to the shatter'd walls, 

1 MS. — " For honour'd life an honour'd close — 

The boon -which falling heroes crave, 

A soldier's death, a warrior's grave. 

Or if, with more exulting swell, 

Of conquering chiefs thou lovest to tell, 

Give to the harp an unheard strain, 

And sing the triumphs of the main — 

Of him, the Red-Cross hero teach, 

Dauntless on Acre's bloody breach, 

And, scorner of tyrannic power, 

As dauntless in the Temple's tower : 

Alike to him the sea, the shore, 

The brand, the bridle, or the oar, 

The general's eye, the pilot's art, 

The soldier's arm, the sailor's heart. 

Or if to touch such chord be thine," &c.] 

2 [Sir Sidney Smith.] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD. 89 

Which the grim Turk, besmeard with blood, 

Against the Invincible made good ; 

Or that, whose thundering voice could wake 

The silence of the polar lake. 

When stubborn Russ, and metal'd Swede, 

On the warp'd wave their death-game play'd ; 

Or that, where Vengeance and Affright 

Howl'd round the father of the fight, 

Who snatch'd, on Alexandria's sand, 

The conqueror's wreath with dying hand. 1 

" Or, if to touch such chord be thine, 
Restore the ancient tragic line, 
And emulate the notes that rung 
From the wild harp, which silent hung 
By silver Avon's holy shore, 
Till twice an hundred years roll'd o'er , 
When she, the bold Enchantress, 2 came, 
With fearless hand and heart on flame ! 
From the pale willow snatch'd the treasure, 
And swept it with a kindred measure, 
Till Avon's swans, while rung the grove 
With Montfort's hate and Basil's love, 
Awakening at the inspired strain, 
Deem'd their own Shakspeare lived again.''' 

Thy friendship thus thy judgment wronging, 
With praises not to me belonging, 
In task more meet for mightiest powers, 
Wouldst thou engage my thriftless hours. 
But say, my Erskine, hast thou weigh 'd 
That secret power by all obey'd, 

i [Sir Ralph Abercromby. ] 
2 [Joanna Baillie.l 



90 



Which warps not less the passive mind, 

Its source conceal'd or undefined ; 

Whether an impulse, that has birth 

Soon as the infant wakes on earth, 

One with our feelings and our powers, 

And rather part of us than ours •, 

Or whether ntlier term'd the sway 

Of habit, formed in early day ? 

Howe'er derived, its force confest 

Rules with despotic sway the breast, 

And drags us on by viewless chain, 

While taste and reason plead in vain. 1 

Look east, and ask the Belgian why, 

Beneath Batavia's sultry sky, 

He seeks not eager to inhale 

The freshness of the mountain gale, 

Content to rear his whiten'd wall 

Beside the dank and dull canal ? 

Hell say, from youth he loved to see 

The white sail gliding by the tree. 

Or see yon weatherbeaten hind, 

Whose sluggish herds before him wind, 

Whose tatter'd plaid and rugged cheek 

His northern clime and kindred speak ; 

Through England's laughing meads he goes, 

And England's wealth around him flows ; 

Ask, if it would content him well, 

At ease in those gay plains to dwell, 

Where hedge-rows spread a verdant screen, 

And spires and forests intervene, 

And the neat cottage peeps between ? 

No ! not for these will he exchange 

His dark Lochaber's boundless range 

i [See Pope's Essay on Man, Epistle II. v. 133-148-1 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD. 91 

Not for fair Devon's meads forsake 
Bennevis grey, and Garry's lake. 

Thus while I ape the measure wild 
Of tales that charm'd me yet a child, 
Rude though they be, still with the chime 
Return the thoughts of early time ; 
And feelings, roused in life's first day, 
Glow in the line, and prompt the lay. 
Then rise those crags, that mountain tower, 
Which charm'd my fancy's wakening hour. 1 
Though no broad river swept along, 
To claim, perchance, heroic song ; 
Though sigh'd no groves in summer gale, 
To prompt of love a softer tale ; 
Though scarce a puny streamlet's speed 
Claim'd homage from a shepherd's reed ; 
Yet was poetic impulse given, 
By the green hill and clear-blue heaven. 
It was a barren scene, and wild, 
Where naked cliffs were rudely piled ; 
But ever and anon between 
Lay velvet tufts of loveliest green ; 
And well the lonely infant knew 
Recesses where the wall-flower grew, 2 
And honey-suckle loved to crawl 
Up the low crag and ruin'd wall. 
I deem'd such nooks the sweetest shade 
The sun in all its round survey 'd ; 



1 [MS.—" The lonely hill, the rocky tower, 

That caught attention's wakening hour."] 

2 [MS. — " Recesses where the woodbine grew."] 



And still I thought that shatter'd tower 1 

The mightiest work of human power ; 

And marvell'd as the aged hind 

With some strange tale bewitch'd my mind, 

Of forayers, who, with headlong force, 

Down from that strength had spurr'd their horse, 

Their southern rapine to renew, 

Far in the distant Cheviots blue, 

And, home returning, fill'd the hall 

With revel, wassel-rout, and brawl. 2 

Methought that still with trump and clang, 

The gateway's broken arches rang ; 

Methought grim features, seam'd with scars, 

Glared through the window's rusty bars, 

And ever, by the winter hearth, 

Old tales I heard of woe or mirth, 

Of lovers' slights, of ladies' charms, 

Of witches' spells, of warriors' arms ; 

Of patriot battles, won of old 

By Wallace wight and Bruce the bold ; 

Of later fields of feud and fight, 

When, pouring from their Highland height, 

The Scottish clans, in headlong sway, 

Had swept the scarlet ranks away. 

While stretch 'd at length upon the floor, 3 

Again I fought each combat o'er, 



1 [Smailholm Tower, in Berwickshire, the scene of the Author's 
infancy, is situated about two miles from Dryburgh Abbey.] 

2 [The two next couplets are not in the MS.") 

3 [MS.—" While still with mimic hosts of shells, 
Again my sport the combat tells — 
Onward the Scottish Lion bore, 
The scatter'd Southron fled before."] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD. 93 

Pebbles and shells, in order laid, 
The mimic ranks of war display 'd ; 
And onward still the Scottish Lion bore, 
And still the scatter 'd Southron fled before. 1 

Still, with vain fondness, could I trace, 
Anew each kind familiar face, 
That brighten'd at our evening fire ! 
From the thatch 'd mansion's grey-hair'd Sire, 2 
Wise without learning, plain and good, 
And sprung of Scotland's gentler blood ; 
Whose eye, in age, quick, clear, and keen, 
Show'd what in youth its glance had been ; 
Whose doom discording neighbours sought, 
Content with equity unbought -, 3 
To him the venerable Priest, 
Our frequent and familiar guest, 
Whose life and manners well could paint 
Alike the student and the saint ; 4 
Alas ! whose speech too oft I broke 
With gambol rude and timeless joke : 
For I was wayward, bold, and wild, 
A self-will'd imp, a grandame's child ; 

1 [See notes on The Eve of St. John, in the Border Minstrelsy, 
vol. iv. ; and the Author's Introduction to the Minstrelsy, vol. i., 
p. 101, ante.'] 

2 [Robert Scott of Sandyknows, the grandfather of the Poet.l 

3 Upon revising the Poem, it seems proper to mention that the 
lines, 

"Whose doom discording neighbours sought, 
Content with equity unbought :" 
have been unconsciously borrowed from a passage in Dryden's 
beautiful epistle to John Driden of Chesterton. — 1808. Note to 
Second Edit. 

4 [MS.—" The student, gentleman, and saint." 
The reverend gentleman alluded to was Mr. John Martin, minis- 
ter of Mertoun, in which parish Smailholm Tower is situated.] 



94 



But half a plague, and half a jest, 
Was still endured, beloved, caress'd. 

For me, thus nurtured, dost thou ask 
The classic poet's well-connM task ? 
Nay, Erskine, nay — On the wild hill 
Let the wild heath-bell flourish still ; 
Cherish the tulip, prune the vine, 
But freely let the woodbine twine, 
And leave untrimm'd the eglantine : 
Nay, my friend, nay — Since oft thy praise 
Hath given fresh vigour to my lays ; 
Since oft thy judgment could refine 
My flatten'd thought, or cumbrous line ; 
Still kind, as is thy wont, attend, 
And in the minstrel spare the friend. 
Though wild as cloud, as stream, as gale, 
Flow forth, flow unrestraint, my Tale ! 



[ SS ] 



M A R M 1 N. 



CANTO THIRD. 



Clje feagttl, six ta*. 
I. 

The livelong day Lord Marmion rode : 
The mountain path the Palmer show'd 
By glen and streamlet winded still, 
Where stunted birches hid the rill. 
They might not choose the lowland road, 1 
For the Merse foray ers were abroad, 
Who, fired with hate and thirst of prey, 
Had scarcely fail'd to bar their way. 
Oft on the trampling band, from crown 
Of some tall cliff, the deer look'd down ; 
On wing of jet, from his repose 
In the deep heath, the black-cock rose ; 
Sprung from the gorse the timid roe, 
Nor waited for the bending bow ; 

i [MS. — " They might not choose the easier road. 
For many a forayer was abroad."] 



96 marmion. Canto III. 

And when the ston) r path began, 
By which the naked peak they wan, 
Up flew the snowy ptarmigan. 
The noon had long been pass'd before 
They gain'd the height of Lammermoor -, 1 
Thence winding down the northern way, 
Before them, at the close of day, 
Old GirTord's towers and hamlet lay. 2 

II. 

No summons calls them to the tower, 

To spend the hospitable hour. 

To Scotland's camp the Lord was gone ; 

His cautious dame, in bower alone, 

Dreaded her castle to unclose, 

So late, to unknown friends or foes. 
On through the hamlet as they paced, 
Before a porch, whose front was graced 
With bush and flagon trimly placed, 

Lord Marmion drew his rein : 
The village inn seemM large, though rude ; 5 
Its cheerful fire and hearty food 
Might well relieve his train. 

Down from their seats the horsemen sprung, 

With jingling spurs the court-yard rung ; 

They bind their horses to the stall, 

For forage, food, and firing call, 

And various clamour fills the hall : 

i [See notes to " The Bride of Lammermoor." Waverley Novels, 
vols. xiii. and xiv.] 

2 [The village of Gifford lies about four miles from Haddington ; 
close to it is Y ester House, the seat of the Marquis of Tweeddale, 
and a little farther up the stream, which descends from the lulls ol 
Lammermoor, are the remains of the old castle of the family.] 
3 See Appendix, Note 2 F. 



Canto HI. the hostel, or inn. 97 

Weighing the labour with the cost, 
Toils everywhere the bustling host. 

III. 

Soon, by the chimney's merry blaze, 
Through the rude hostel might you gaze ; 
Might see, where in dark nook aloof, 
The rafters of the sooty roof 

Bore wealth of winter cheer ; 
Of sea-fowl dried, and solands store, 
And gammons of the tusky boar, 

And savoury haunch of deer. 
The chimney arch projected wide ; 
Above, around it, and beside, 

Were tools for housewives' hand ; 
Nor wanted, in that martial day, 
The implements of Scottish fray, 

The buckler, lance, and brand. 
Beneath its shade, the place of state, 
On oaken settle Marmion sate, 
And view'd around the blazing hearth. 
His followers mix in noisy mirth ; 
Whom with brown ale, in jolly tide, 
From ancient vessels ranged aside, 
Full actively their host supplied. 

IV. 

Theirs was the glee of martial breast, 
And laughter theirs at little jest ; 
And oft Lord Marmion deign'd to aid, 
And mingle in the mirth they made •, 
For though, with men of high degree, 
The proudest of the proud was he, 
G 



28 marmion. Canto III. 

Yet. train'd in camps, he knew the art 
To win the soldier's hardy heart. 
They love a captain to obey, 
Boisterous as March, yet fresh as May ; 
With open hand, and brow as free, 
Lover of wine and minstrelsy ; 
Ever the first to scale a tower, 
As venturous in a lady's bower : — 
Such buxom chief shall lead his host 
From India's fires to Zembla's frost. 

V. 

Resting upon his pilgrim staff, 

"Right opposite the Palmer stood ; 
His thin dark visage seen but half, 

Half hidden by his hood. 
Still fix'd on Marmion was his look, 
Which he, who ill such gaze could brook, 

Strove by a frown to quell ; 
But not for that, though more than once 
Full met their stern encountering glance, 1 

The Palmer's visage fell. 

VI. 

By fits less frequent from the crowd 
Was heard the burst of laughter loud ; 
For still, as squire and archer stared 
On that dark face and matted beard, 

Their glee and game declined. 
All gazed at length in silence drear, 
Unbroke, save when in comrade's ear 
Some yeoman, wondering in his fear, 

Thus whisper 'd forth his mind : — 

i [MS.— 14 Full met their eyes' encountering glance."] 



Canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 90 

" Saint Mary ! saw'st thou e'er such sight ? 
How pale his cheek, his eye how bright, 
Whene'er the firebrand's fickle light 

Glances beneath his cowl ! 
Full on our Lord he sets his eye ; 
For his best palfrey, would not I 

Endure that sullen scowl." 

VII. 

But Marmion, as to chase the awe 

Which thus had quell'd their hearts, who saw 

The ever- varying fire-light show 

That figure stern and face of woe, 

Now call'd upon a squire : — 
" Fitz-Eustace, know'st thou not some lay, 
To speed the lingering night away ? 

We slumber by the fire." — 

VIII. 

So please you," thus the youth rejoin'd, 
" Our choicest minstrel's left behind. 
Ill may we hope to please your ear, 
Accustom'd Constant's strains to hear. 
The harp full deftly can he 3trike, 
And wake the lover's lute alike ; 
To dear Saint Valentine, no thrush 
Sings livelier from a spring- tide bush, 
No nightingale her love-lorn tune 
More sweetly warbles to the moon. 
Woe to the cause, whate'er it be, 
Detains from us his melody, 
Lavish'd on rocks, and billows stern, 
Or duller monks of Lindisfarne. 
Now must I venture, as I may, 
To sing his favourite roundelav." 



100 marmion. Canto II I, 

IX. 

A mellow voice Fitz-Eustace had, 
The air he chose was wild and sad ', 
Such have I heard, in Scottish land, 
Rise from the busy harvest band, 
When falls before the mountaineer, 
On Lowland plains, the ripen 'd ear. 
Now one shrill voice the notes prolong, 
Now a wild chorus swells the song : 
Oft have I listen'd, and stood still, 
As it came soften'd up the hill, 
And deem'd it the lament of men 
Who languish 'd for their native glen ; 
And thought how sad would be such sound- 
On Susquehana's swampy ground, 
Kentucky's wood-encumber'd brake, 
Or wild Ontario's boundless lake, 
Where heart-sick exiles, in the strain, 
RecalPd fair Scotland's hills again ! 

X. 

Where shall the lover rest, 

Whom the fates sever 
From his true maiden's breast, 

Parted for ever ? 
Where, through groves deep and high. 

Sounds the far billow, 
Where early violets die, 

Under the willow. 

CHORUS. 

Elcu loro, &c. Soft shall be his pillow. 



Canto HI. the hostel, or inn. 101 

There, through the summer day, 

Cool streams are laving ; 
There, while the tempests sway, 

Scarce are boughs waving ; 
There, thy rest shalt thou take, 

Parted for ever, 
Never again to wake, 

Never, O never ! 

CHORUS. 

Eleu loro, &c. Never, O never ! 

XL 

Where shall the traitor rest, 

He, the deceiver, 
Who could win maiden's breast, 

Ruin, and leave her ? 
In the lost battle, 

Borne down by the flying, 
Where mingles war's rattle 

With groans of the dying. 

CHORUS. 

Eleu loro, &c. There shall he be lying. 

Her wing shall the eagle flap 

O'er the false-hearted ; 
His warm blood the wolf shall lap, 

Ere life be parted. 
Shame and dishonour sit 

By his grave ever ; 
Blessing shall hallow it, — 

Never, O never ! 



102 marmion. Canto III. 

CHORUS. 

Eleu lo7-o, Sec. Never, O never ! 

XII. 

It ceased, the melancholy sound ; 
And silence sunk on all around. 
The air was sad ; but sadder still 

It fell on Marmion 's ear, 
And plain'd as if disgrace and ill, 

And shameful death, were near. 
He drew his mantle past his face, 

Between it and the band, 
And rested with his head a space, 

Reclining on his hand. 
His thoughts I scan not ; but I ween, 
That, could their import have been seen, 
The meanest groom in all the hall, 
That e'er tied courser to a stall, 
Would scarce have wish'd to be their prey, 
For Lutterward and Fontenaye. 

XIII. 

High minds, of native pride and force, 
Most deeply feel thy pangs, Remorse ! 
Fear, for their scourge, mean villains have, 
Thou art the torturer of the brave ! 
Yet fatal strength they boast to steel 
Their minds to bear the wounds they feel, 
Even while they writhe beneath the smart 
Of civil conflict in the heart. 
For soon Lord Marmion raised his head, 
And, smiling, to Fitz-Eustace said, — 
" Is it not strange, that, as ye sung, 
Seenfd in mine ear a death-peal rung, 



Canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 103 

Such as in nunneries they toll 
For some departing sisters soul ? 

Say, what may this portend ?" — 
Then first the Palmer silence broke, 
(The livelong day he had not spoke,) 

" The death of a dear friend." 1 

XIV. 

Marmion, whose steady heart and eye 
Ne'er changed in worst extremity ; 
Marmion, whose soul could scantly brook, 
Even from his King, a haughty look -, 2 
Whose accent of command controll'd, 
In camps, the boldest of the bold — 
Thought, look, and utterance fail'd him now, 
Fall'n was his glance, and flush 'd his brow : 

For either in the tone, 
Or something in the Palmer's look, 
So full upon his conscience strook, 

That answer he found none. 
Thus oft it haps, that when within 
They shrink at sense of secret sin, 

A feather daunts the brave ; 
A fool's wild speech confounds the wise, 
And proudest princes vail their eyes 

Before their meanest slave. 



1 Among other omens to which faithful credit is given among 
the Scottish peasantry, is what is called the " dead-bell," explain- 
ed by my friend James Hogg, to be that tinMing in the ears which 
the country people regard as the secret intelligence of some friend's 
decease. He tells a story to the purpose in the " Mountain Bard," 
p. 26 ; [p. 31-2, 3d Edit.] 

2 C^S.-« Marmion, whose pride"! ^ 

\\ hose haughty soul J ' 

Even from his King, a scornful look."] 



104 Marmion. Canto III. 

XV. 
Well might he falter ! — By his aid 
Was Constance Beverley betray 'd. 
Not that he augur'd of the doom, 
Which on the living closed the tomb : 
But, tired to hear the desperate maid 1 
Threaten by turns, beseech, upbraid ; 
And wroth, because in wild despair, 2 
She practised on the life of Clare ; 
Its fugitive the Church he gave, 
Though not a victim, but a slave ; 
And deem'd restraint in convent strange 
Would hide her wrongs, and her revenge. 
Himself, proud Henry's favourite peer, 
Held Romish thunders idle fear, 
Secure his pardon he might hold, 
For some slight mulct of penance-gold. 
Thus judging, he gave secret way, 
When the stern priests surprised their prey. 
His train but deem'd the favourite page 
Was left behind, to spare his age ; 
Or other if they deem'd, none dared 
To mutter what he thought and heard : 
Woe to the vassal, who durst pry 
Into Lord Marmion 's privacy ! 

XVI. 

His conscience slept — he deem'd her well, 
And safe secured in distant cell ; 
But, waken'd by her favourite lay, 
And that strange Palmer's boding saw 



i [MS.—" But tired to hear the furious maid."] 
2 [MS. — " Incensed, because in wild despair."] 



Canto TIL the hostel, or inn. 105 

That fell so ominous and drear, 
Full on the object of his fear, 
To aid remorse's venom 'd throes, 
Dark tales of con vent- vengeance rose ; 
And Constance, late betray'd and scorn'd, 
All lovely on his soul return 'd ; 
Lovely as when, at treacherous call, 
She left her convent's peaceful -wall, 
Crimson 'd with shame, with terror mute, 
Dreading alike escape, pursuit, 
Till love, victorious o'er alarms, 
Hid fears and blushes in his arms. 

XVII. 

" Alas 1" he thought, "how changed that mien ! 

How changed these timid looks have been, 1 

Since years of guilt, and of disguise, 

Have steel'd her brow, and arm'd her eyes ! 

No more of virgin terror speaks 

The blood that mantles in her cheeks ; 

Fierce, and unfeminine, are there, 

Frenzy for joy, for grief despair ; 

And I the cause — for whom were given 

Her peace on earth, her hopes in heaven ! — 

Would," thought he, as the picture grows, 

" I on its stalk had left the rose ! 



i [The MS. reads :— 

" Since fiercer passions 'wild and high, 
Have flush'd her cheek with deeper dye, 
And years of guilt, and of disguise, 
Have steel'd her brow, and arm'd her eyes. 
And I the cause — for whom were given 
Her peace on earth, her hopes in heaven !— 
How will her ardent spirit swell, 
And chafe within the narrow cell !"] 



106 MARMION". Canto 11 1. 

Oh, why should man's success remove 
The very charms that wake his love ! — 
Her convent's peaceful solitude 
Is now a prison harsh and rude ; 
And, pent within the narrow cell, 
Plow will her spirit chafe and swell ! 
How brook the stern monastic laws ! 
The penance how — and I the cause ! — 
Vigil and scourge — perchance even worse !" 
And twice he rose to cry, " To horse !" 
And twice his Sovereign's mandate came, 
Like damp upon a kindling flame ; 
And twice he thought, " Gave I not charge 
She should be safe, though not at large ? 
They durst not, for their island, shred 
One golden ringlet from her head." 

XVIII. 

While thus in Marmion's bosom strove 

Repentance and reviving love, 

Like whirlwinds, whose contending sway 

I've seen Loch Vennachar obey, 

Their Host the Palmer's speech had heard, 

And, talkative, took up the word : 

" Ay, reverend Pilgrim, you, who stray 
From Scotland's simple land away, 1 

To visit realms afar, 
Full often learn the art to know 
Of future weal, or future woe, 

By word, or sign, or star ; 
Yet might a knight his fortune hear, 
If, knight-like, he despises fear, 

I [MS.—" From this plain simplo land away."] 



CantO III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 107 

Not far from hence ; — if fathers old 
Aright our hamlet legend told." — 
These broken words the menials move, 
(For marvels still the vulgar love,) 
And, Marmion giving license cold, 
His tale the host thus gladly told : — 

XIX. 

" A Clerk could tell what years have flown 
Since Alexander filled our throne, 
(Third monarch of that warlike name,) 
And eke the time when here he came 
To seek Sir Hugo, then our lord : 
A braver never drew a sword ; 
A wiser never, at the hour 
Of midnight, spoke the word of power : 
The same, whom ancient records call 
The founder of the Goblin-Hall. 1 
I would, Sir Knight, your longer stay 
Gave you that cavern to survey. 
Of lofty roof, and ample size, 
Beneath the castle deep it lies : 
To hew the living rock profound, 
The floor to pave, the arch to round, 
There never toil'd a mortal arm, 
It all was wrought by word and charm ; 
And I have heard my grand sire say, 
That the wild clamour and affray 
Of those dread artisans of hell, 
Who labour'd under Hugo's spell, 
Sounded as loud as ocean's war, 
Among the caverns of Dunbar, 
i See Appendix, Note 2 G. 



108 marmion. Canto III. 

XX. 

" The King Lord Gifford's castle sought, 
Deep labouring with uncertain thought ; 
Even then he muster'd all his host, 
To meet upon the western coast : 
For Norse and Danish galleys plied 
Their oars within the Frith of Clyde. 
There floated Haco's banner trim, 1 
Above Norweyan warriors grim, 2 
Savage of heart, and large of limb ; 
Threatening both continent and isle, 
Bute, Arran, Cunninghame, and Kyle. 
Lord Gifford, deep beneath the ground, 
Heard Alexander's bugle sound, 
And tarried not his garb to change, 
But, in his wizard habit strange, 3 
Came forth, — a quaint and fearful sight •, 
His mantle lined with fox-skins white ; 

1 In 1263, Haco, King of Norway, came into the Frith of Clyde 
with a powerful armament, and made a descent at Largs, in Ayr- 
shire. Here he was encountered and defeated, on the 2d October, 
by Alexander III. Haco retreated to Orkney, where he died soon 
after this disgrace to his arms. There are still existing, near the 
place of battle, many barrows, some of which, haying been opened, 
were found, as usual, to contain bones and urns. 

2 [MS. — " There floated Haco's banner grim, 

O'er fierce of heart and large of limb."] 

3 " Magicians, as is well known, were very curious in the choice 
and form of their vestments. Their caps are oval, or like pyra- 
mids, with lappets on each side, and fur within. Their gowns are 
long, and furred with fox-skins, under which they have a linen 
garment reaching to the knee. Their girdles are three inches 
broad, and have many cabalistical names, with crosses, trines, and 
circles inscribed on them. Their shoes should be of new russet 
leather, with a cross cut upon them. Their knives are dagger- 
fashioned ; and their swords have neither guard nor scabbard." — 
See these, and many other particulars, in the discourse concerning 
Devils and Spirits, annexed to Reginald Scott's Discovery of 
Witchcraft, edition 1665. 



Canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 109 

His high and wrinkled forehead bore 

A pointed cap, such as of yore 

Clerks say that Pharaoh's Magi wore : 

His shoes were mark'd with cross and spell, 

Upon his breast a pentacle -, 1 

His zone, of virgin parchment thin, 

Or, as some tell, of dead man's skin, 

Bore many a planetary sign, 

Combust, and retrograde, and trine ; 2 

And in his hand he held prepared, 

A naked sword without a guard. 

XXI. 

" Dire dealings with the fiendish race 
Had mark'd strange lines upon his face ; 
Vigil and fast had worn him grim, 
His eyesight dazzled seem'd and dim, 
As one unused to upper day ; 
Even his own menials with dismay 
Beheld, Sir Knight, the grisly Sire, 
In his unwonted wild attire ; 
Unwonted, for traditions run, 
He seldom thus beheld the sun. — 
' I know,' he said, — his voice was hoarse, 
And broken seem'd its hollow force, — 
6 I know the cause, although untold, 
Why the King seeks his vassal's hold : 

1 " A pentacle is a piece of fine linen, folded with five corners, 
according to the five senses, and suitably inscribed with characters. 
This the magician extends towards the spirits which he invokes, 
when they are stubborn and rebellious, and refuse to be conform- 
able unto the ceremonies and rights of magic." — See the Discourses, 
&c. above mentioned, p. 66*. 

2 [MS. — " Bare many a character and sign, 
Of planets retrograde and trine."] 



1 1 marmion. Canto III. 

Vainly from me my liege would know 
His kingdom's future weal or woe ♦, 
But yet, if strong his arm and heart, 
His courage may do more than art. 

XXII. 

" ' Of middle air the demons proud, 
Who ride upon the racking cloud, 
Can read, in fix'd or wandering star, 
The issue of events afar ; 
But still their sullen aid withhold, 
Save when by mightier force controlPd. 
Such late I summon'd to my hall ; 
And though so potent was the call, 
That scarce the deepest nook of hell 
I deem'd. a refuge from the spell, 
Yet, obstinate in silence still, 
The haughty demon mocks my skill. 
But thou, — who little know'st thy might, 
As born upon that blessed night l 
When yawning graves, and dying groan, 
Proclaim'd hell's empire overthrown, — 
With untaught valour shalt compel 
Response denied to magic spell.'' — 2 
6 Gramercy, 1 quoth our Monarch free, 
' Place him but front to front with me, 
And, by this good and honour'd brand, 
The gift of Coeur-de-Lion's hand, 

1 It is a popular article of faith, that those who are born on 
Christmas, or Good Friday, have the power of seeing spirits, and 
even of commanding them. The Spaniards imputed the haggard 
and downcast look3 of their Philip II. to the disagreeable visions 
to which this privilege subjected him. 

2 [MS.—" With untaught valour mayst compel 
What is denied to magic spell."] 



Canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. Ill 

Soothly I swear, that, tide what tide, 
The demon shall a buffet bide.' — x 
His bearing bold the wizard view'd, 

And thus, well pleased, his speech renewed 

4 There spoke the blood of Malcolm ! — mark : 
Forth pacing hence, at midnight dark 
The rampart seek, whose circling crown 2 
Crests the ascent of yonder down : 
A southern entrance shalt thou find ; 
There halt, and there thy bugle wind, 
And trust thine elfin foe to see, 
In guise of thy worst enemy : 
Couch then thy lance, and spur thy steed — 
Upon him ! and Saint George to speed ! 
If he go down, thou soon shalt know 
Whate'er these airy sprites can show \ — 
If thy heart fail thee in the strife, 
I am no warrant for thy life."' 

XXIII. 

" Soon as the midnight bell did ring, 
Alone, and arm'd, forth rode the King 
To that old camp's deserted round : 3 
Sir Knight, you well might mark the mound, 
Left hand the town, — the Pictish race, 
The trench, long since, in blood did trace ; 
The moor around is brown and bare, 
The space within is green and fair. 

i [MS.—" Bicker and buffet he shall bide."] 

. r MS.-"s eek {^}oia »t£> « —"J 

8 [MS.— "Alone, and arm'd, rode forth the King 
To that encampment's haunted round."] 



112 MARMJON. Canto III. 

The spot our village children know, 
For there the earliest wild-flowers grow ; 
But woe betide the wandering wight, 
That treads its circle in the night ! 
The breadth across, a bowshot clear, 
Gives ample space for full career ; 
Opposed to the four points of heaven, 
By four deep gaps are entrance given. 
The southernmost our Monarch past, 1 
Halted, and blew a gallant blast ; 
And on the north, within the ring, 
Ajmear'd the form of England's King, 
Who then, a thousand leagues afar, 
In Palestine waged holy war : 
Yet arms like England's did he wield, 
Alike the leopards in the shield, 
Alike his Syrian courser's frame, 
The rider's length of limb the same : 
Long afterwards did Scotland know, 
Fell Edward 2 was her deadliest foe. 

XXIV. 

" The vision made our Monarch start, 
But soon he mann'd his noble heart, 
And in the first career they ran, 
The Elfin Knight fell, horse and man ; 
Yet did a splinter of his lance 
Through Alexander's visor glance, 
And razed the skin — a puny wound. 
The King, light leaping to the ground, 
With naked blade his phantom foe 
Compell'd the future war to show. 

1 [MS. — " The southern gate our Monarch past. "J 

2 Edward I. surnamed Longshanks. 



Canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 1 13 

Of Largs he saw the glorious plain, 
Where still gigantic bones remain, 

Memorial of the Danish war ; 
Himself he saw, amid the field, 
On high his brandish'd war-axe wield, 

And strike proud Haco from his car. 
While all around the shadowy Kings 
Denmark's grim ravens cower'd their wings, 
'Tis said, that in that awful night, 
Remoter visions met his sight, 
Foreshowing future conquests far, 1 
When our sons' sons wage northern war ; 
A royal city, tower, and spire, 
Redden'd the midnight sky with fire, 
And shouting crews her navy bore, 
Triumphant, to the victor shore. 2 
Such signs may learned clerks explain, 
They pass the wit of simple swain. 

XXV. 

" The joyful King turn'd home again, 
Headed his host, and quell'd the Dane ; 
But yearly, when return'd the night 
Of his strange combat with the sprite, 

His wound must bleed and smart ; 
Lord Gifford then would gibing say, 
6 Bold as ye were, my liege, ye pay 

The penance of your start.' 

i [MS,— -To be fulfill'd in times afar, 

When our sons' sons -wage northern war; 
A royal city's towers and spires 
Redden' d the midnight sky with fires, 
And shouting crews her navy bore, 
Triumphant, from the vanquish'd shore."] 
2 [For an account of the expedition to Copenhagen in 1801, see 
Southey's Life of Nelson, chap. vii. "J ^ 



114 marmion. Canto II[. 

Long since, beneath Dunfermline's nave, 
King Alexander fills his grave, 

Our Lady give him rest ! 
Yet still the knightly spear and shield 
The Elfin Warrior doth wield, 

Upon the brown hill's breast ; 1 
And many a knight hath proved his chance, 
In the charm'd ring to break a lance, 

But all have foully sped ; 
Save two, as legends tell, and they 
Were Wallace wight, and Gilbert Hay. — 

Gentles, my tale is said." 

XXVI. 

The quaighs 2 were deep, the liquor strong, 
And on the tale the yeoman-throng 
Had made a comment sage and long, 

But Marmion gave a sign : 
And, with their lord, the squires retire ; 
The rest, around the hostel fire, 

Their drowsy limbs recline ; 
For pillow, underneath each head, 
The quiver and the targe were laid. 
Deep slumbering on the hostel floor, 3 
OppressM with toil and ale, they snore : 
The dying flame, in fitful change, 
Threw on the group its shadows strange. 



3 See Appendix, Note 2 H. 

2 A wooden cup, composed of staves hooped together. 

3 fMS.—- " Deep slumbering on the floor of clay, 

Oppress'd with toil and ale, they lay ; 

The dying flame, in fitful change, 

Threw on them lights and shadows strange"] 



Canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 1 1 5 

XXVII. 

Apart, and nestling in the hay 
Of a waste loft, Fitz- Eustace lay;, 
Scarce, by the pale moonlight, were seen 
The foldings of his mantle green : 
Lightly he dreamt, as youth will dream, 
Of sport by thicket, or by stream, 
Of hawk or hound, of ring or glove, 
Or, lighter yet, of lady's love. 
A cautious tread his slumber broke, 
And, close beside him, when he woke, 
In moonbeam half, and half in gloom, 
Stood a tall form, with nodding plume ; 
But, ere his dagger Eustace drew, 
His master Marmion's voice he knew. 1 

XXVIII. 

— " Fitz-Eustace ! rise, — I cannot rest ; 
Yon churl's wild legend haunts my breast, 
And graver thoughts have chafed my mood : 
The air must cool my feverish blood ; 
And fain would I ride forth, to see 
The scene of elfin chivalry. 
Arise, and saddle me my steed \ 2 
And, gentle Eustace, take good heed 
Thou dost not rouse these drowsy slaves ; 
I would not, that the prating knaves 
Had cause for saying, o'er their ale 
That I could credit such a tale." — 
Then softly down the steps they slid, 
Eustace the stable door undid, 

1 [MS. — " But, ere his dagger Eustace drew, 

It spoke — Lord Marmion's voice he knew. "J 

2 [MS. — " Come down and saddle me my steed."] 



110 marmion Canto HI. 

And, darkling, Marmion's steed array 'd, 
While, whispering, thus the Baron said : — 

XXIX. 

w Did'st never, good my youth, hear tell, 
That on the hour when I was born, 

Saint George, who graced my sire's chapelle, 

Down from his steed of marble fell, 
A weary wight forlorn ? 

The flattering chaplains all agree, 

The champion left his steed to me. 

I would, the omen's truth to show, 

That I could meet this Elfin Foe ! 1 

Blithe would I battle, for the right 

To ask one question at the sprite : — 

Vain thought ! for elves, if elves there be, 

An empty race, by fount or sea, 

To dashing waters dance and sing, 2 

Or round the green oak wheel their ring." 

Thus speaking, he his steed bestrode, 

And from the hostel slowly rode. 

XXX. 

Fitz-Eustace followed him abroad, 
And mark'd him pace the village road. 
And listen'd to his horse's tramp, 

Till, by the lessening sound, 
He judged that of the Pictish camp 
Lord Marmion sought the round. 
Wonder it seem'd, in the squire's eyes, 
That one, so wary held, and wise, — 

1 [MS. — " I would, to prove the omen right, 

That I could meet this Elfin Knight!"] 

2 [MS.—" Dance to the wild waves' murmuring."] 



Canto III. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. J 1 7 

Of whom 'twas said, he scarce received 
For gospel, what the church believed, — . 

Should, stirr'd by idle tale, 
Ride forth in silence of the night, 
As hoping half to meet a sprite, 

Array'd in plate and mail. 
For little did Fitz-Eustace know, 
That passions, in contending flow, 

Unfix the strongest mind ; 
Wearied from doubt to doubt to flee, 
We welcome fond credulity, 

Guide confident, though blind. 

XXXI. 

Little for this Fitz-Eustace cared, 
But, patient, waited till he heard, 
At distance, prick'd to utmost speed, 
The foot-tramp of a flying steed, 

Come town- ward rushing on ; 
First, dead, as if on turf it trode, 
Then, clattering on the village road, — 
In other pace than forth he yode, 1 

Return'd Lord Marmion. 
Down hastily he sprung from selle, 
And, in his haste, wellnigh he fell ; 
To the squire's hand the rein he threw, 
And spoke no word as he withdrew : 
But yet the moonlight did betray, 
The falcon-crest was soil'd with clay ; 
And plainly might Fitz-Eustace see, 
By stains upon the charger's knee, 

1 Yode, used by old poets for went. 



1 1 3 marmion. Canto III. 

And his left side, that on the moor 
He had not kept his footing sure. 
Long musing on these wondrous signs, 
At length to rest the squire reclines, 
Broken and short \ for still, between, 
Would dreams of terror intervene : 
Eustace did ne'er so blithely mark 
The first notes of the morning lark. 



[ 119 ] 



MARMION. 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH. 



JAMES SKENE, Esq. 1 

Ashestiel, Ettrick Forest. 
An ancient Minstrel sagely said, 
" Where is the life which late we led ?" 
That motley clown in Arden wood, 
Whom humorous Jacques with envy view'd, 
Not even that clown could amplify, 
On this trite text, so long as I. 
Eleven years we now may tell, 
Since we have known each other well ; 
Since, riding side by side, our hand 
First drew the voluntary brand ; 2 
And sure, through many a varied scene, 
Unkindness never came between. 

1 [J ames Skene, Esq. of Rubislaw, Aberdeenshire, was Cornet 
in the Royal Edinburgh Light Horse Volunteers ; and Sir Walter 
Scott was Quartermaster of the same corps.] 

2 [MS.—" Unsheath'd the voluntary brand.""] 



120 



Away these winged years have flown, 

To join the mass of ages gone ; 

And though deep mark'd, like all below, 

With chequer'd shades of joy and woe ; 

Though thou o'er realms and seas hast ranged, 

Mark'd cities lost, and empires changed, 

While here, at home, my narrower ken 

Somewhat of manners saw, and men ; 

Though varying wishes, hopes, and fears, 

Fever 'd the progress of these years, 

Yet now, days, weeks, and months, but seem 

The recollection of a dream, 

So still we glide down to the sea 

Of fathomless eternity. 

Even now it scarcely seems a day, 
Since first I tuned this idle lay ; 
A task so often thrown aside, 
When leisure graver cares denied, 
That now, November's dreary gale, 
Whose voice inspired my opening tale, 
That same November gale once more 
Whirls the dry leaves on Yarrow shore. 
Their vex'd boughs streaming to the sky, 
Once more our naked birches sigh, 
And Blackhouse heights, and Ettrick Pen, 
Have donn'd their wintry shrouds again : 
And mountain dark, and flooded mead, 1 
Bid us forsake the banks of Tweed. 
Earlier than wont along the sky, 
Mix'd with the rack, the snow mists fly ; 
The shepherd who, in summer sun, 
Had something of our envy won, 
i [MS.—" And noon-tide mist, and flooded mead."] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH. 121 

As thou with pencil, I with pen, 

The features traced of hill and glen - r — 1 

He who, outstretch'd the livelong day, 

At ease among the heath-flowers lay, 

View'd the light clouds with vacant look, 

Or slumbered o'er his tatter'd book, 

Or idly busied him to guide 

His angle o'er the lessen'd tide ; — 

At midnight now, the snowy plain 

Finds sterner labour for the swain. 

When red hath set the beamless sun, 2 
Through heavy vapours dark and dun ; 
When the tired ploughman, dry and warm, 
Hears, half asleep, the rising storm 
Hurling the hail, and sleeted rain, 
Against the casement's tinkling pane : 
The sounds that drive wild deer and fox 
To shelter in the brake and rocks, 
Are warnings which the shepherd ask 
To dismal and to dangerous task. 
Oft he looks forth, and hopes, in vain, 
The blast may sink in mellowing rain ; 
Till, dark above, and white below, 3 
Decided drives the flaky snow, 
And forth the hardy swain must go. 
Long, with dejected look and whine, 
To leave the hearth his dogs repine ; 

1 [Various illustrations of the Poetry and Novels of Sir Walter 
Scott, from designs by Mr. Skene, have since been published.] 
2 [MS.—" When red hath set the evening sun, 

And loud winds speak the storm begun."] 
i [MS.—" Till thickly drives the flaky snow, 
And forth the hardy swain must go 
While, with dejected look and whine," &c] 



I 22 M ARM ION. 

Whistling and cheering them to aid, 
Around his back he wreathes the plaid : 
His flock he gathers, and he guides, 
To open downs, and mountain-sides, 
Where fiercest though the tempest blow 
Least deeply lies the drift below. 
The blast that whistles o'er the fells, * 
SthYens his locks to icicles ; 
Oft he looks back, while streaming far, 
His cottage window seems a star, — 2 
Loses its feeble gleam, — and then 
Turns patient to the blast again, 
And, facing to the tempest's sweep, 
Drives through the gloom his lagging sheep. 
If fails his heart, if his limbs fail, 
Benumbing death is in the gale ; 
His paths, his landmarks, all unknown, 
Close to the hut, no more his own, 
Close to the aid he sought in vain, 
The morn may find the stiffen'd swain : 3 
The widow sees, at dawning pale, 
His orphans raise their feeble wail ; 

i [MS. — " The frozen blast that sweeps the fells."] 

2 [MS. — " His cottage window beams a star, — 

But soon he loses it,— and then 
Turns patient to his task again."] 

3 [MS.-—" The morn shall find the stiffen* d swain : 

His widow sees, at morning pale, 

His children rise, and raise their wail."] 

I cannot help here mentioning, that, on the night in which these 
lines were written, suggested, as they were, by a sudden fall of 
snow, beginning after sunset, an unfortunate man perished exactly 
in the manner here described, and his body was next morning 
found close to his own house. The accident happened within five 
miles of the farm of Ashestiel. 

[Compare the celebrated description of a man perishing in the 
snow, in Thomson's Winter.'] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH. 123 

And, close beside him, in the snow, 
Poor Yarrow, partner of their woe, 
Couches upon his master's breast, 1 
And licks his cheek to break his rest. 

Who envies now the shepherd's lot, 
His healthy fare, his rural cot, 
His summer couch by greenwood tree, 
His rustic kirn's 2 loud revelry, 
His native hill-notes, timed on high, 
To Marion of the blithesome eye ; 3 
His crook, his scrip, his oaten reed, 
And all Arcadia's golden creed ? 

Changes not so with us, my Skene, 
Of human life the varying scene ? 
Our youthful summer oft we see 4 
Dance by on wings of game and glee, 
While the dark storm reserves its rage, 
Against the winter of our age : 
As he, the ancient Chief of Troy, 
Hi3 manhood spent in peace and joy ; 
But Grecian fires, and loud alarms, 
Call'd ancient Priam forth to arms. 5 
Then happy those, since each must drain 
His share of pleasure, share of pain, — 

1 [MS. — " Couches upon his frozen breast."] 

2 The Scottish Harvest-home. 

s [MS. — " His native wild notes' melody, 

To Marion's blithely blinking eye."] 

4 [MS. — " Our youthful summer oft we see 

Dance by on wings of mirth and glee, 
While the dark storm reserves its rage, 
To crush the winter of our age."] 

5 [MS. — " Call'd forth his feeble age to arms."] 



124 MARMION. 

Then happy those, beloved of Heaven, 
To whom the mingled cup is given ; 
"Whose lenient sorrows find relief, 
Whose joys are chasten'd by their grief. 
And such a lot, my Skene, was thine, 
"When thou of late, wert doom'd to twine, — 
Just when thy bridal hour was by, — 
The cypress with the myrtle tie. 
Just on thy bride her Sire had smiled, 1 
And blessed the union of his child, 
"When love must change its joyous cheer, 
And wipe affection 's filial tear. 
Nor did the actions next his end 2 
Speak more the father than the friend : 
Scarce had lamented Forbes 3 paid 
The tribute to his Minstrel's shade ; 
The tale of friendship scarce was told, 
Ere the narrator's heart was cold — 
Far may we search before we find 
A heart so manly and so kind ! 
But not around his honour'd urn, 
Shall friends alone and kindred mourn •, 
The thousand eyes his care had dried, 
Pour at his name a bitter tide ; 

1 [MS.—" Scarce on thy bride her Sire had smiled."] 

2 [MS. — " But even the actions next his end, 

Spoke the fond sire and faithful friend."] 
3 Sir William Forbes of Pitsligo, Baronet ; unequalled, perhaps, 
in the degree of individual affection entertained for him by his 
friends, as well as in the general respect and esteem of Scotland 
at large. His " Life of Beattie," whom he befriended and patron- 
ised in life, as well as celebrated after his decease, was not long 
published, before the benevolent and affectionate biographer was 
called to follow the subject of his narrative. This melancholy 
event very shortly succeeded the marriage of the friend to Avhom 
this introduction is addressed, with one of Sir "William's daughters. 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH. 125 

And frequent falls the grateful dew, 

For benefits the world ne'er knew. 

If mortal charity dare claim 

The Almighty's attributed name, 

Inscribe above his mouldering clay, 

" The widow's shield, the orphan's stay." 

Nor, though it wake thy sorrow, deem 

My verse intrudes on this sad theme ; 

For sacred was the pen that wrote, 

" Thy father's friend forget thou not :" 

And grateful title may I plead, 1 

For many a kindly word and deed, 

To bring my tribute to his grave : 

'Tis little — but 'tis all I have. 

To thee, perchance, this rambling strain 
Recalls our summer walks again ; 
When, doing nought, — and, to 3peak true, 
Not anxious to find aught to do, — 
The wild unbounded hills we ranged, 
While oft our talk its topic changed, 
And, desultory as our way, 
Ranged, unconfmed, from grave to gay. 
Even when it flagg'd, as oft will chance, 
No effort made to break its trance, 
We could right pleasantly pursue 
Our sports in social silence too ; 2 
Thou gravely labouring to pourtray 
The blighted oak's fantastic spray ; 
I spelling o'er, with much delight, 
The legend of that antique knight, 
Tirante by name, yclep'd the White. 

1 [MS. — <c And nearer title may I plead."] 

2 [MS.— " Our thoughts in social silence too."] 



l~ "v -ay. " w;»$ '.^CA, but not loud; 

No: A- , 

Whor. \Y:r.:er > 

91 sighing caa 
Whc 

5 

^ bos a quaff the - Vowl. 

^ ho lr-OAt>.o> :"\o c ; 

1*0.0 '.ov.co: av»\1. Va-.a".*a :oo oo.orv . 

Aoo. :V.ov.. av.a I. o\o. o.ooor-'.o oo. '.x . 

A--.\ ov.o v.V.os; -..•••..• 1 ova -..-: x'-. — 
. .V , >..-.< .; '"-.^.'v.t A .A\; o: :>.&* ";\v: s .-. Vv. '. terror A ?\ 
- . 

■ >.» : 

An.] 

•: . - - 

- 
k v:v* ." ■ - > '■' . .- >v. '..A'... : . .-. A. ■-..■.:'.• :\v: V- 

selvw into a Kttlo wiRHaihan ciuK tkt wwetinss of vtkk ww 

• A.- .;: A--- .-.-.•• A *■ v.vt :.A- -.v. :v :.;:•.-. ' 

.* -A.u- ■.;:.• - ' .. ..^ . 

author of ti» « life of BefttttO 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH. 127 

For not Mimosa's tender tree 

Shrinks sooner from the touch than he, — 

In merry chorus well combined, 

With laughter drown 'd the whistling wind. 

Mirth was within ; and care without 

Might gnaw her nails to hear our shout. 

Not but amid the buxom scene 

Some grave discourse might intervene — 

Of the good horse that bore him best, 

His shoulder, hoof, and arching crest : 

For, like mad Tom's, 1 our chiefest care. 

Was horse to ride, and weapon wear. 

Such nights we've had ; and, though the game 2 

Of manhood be more sober tame, 

And though the field-day, or the drill, 

Seem less important now — yet still 

Such may we hope to share again. 

The sprightly thought inspires my strain ! 

And mark, how, like a horseman true, 

Lord Marmion's march I thus renew. 

1 See King Lear. 

2 [MS.—" Such nights we've had ; and though ow game 

Advance of years may something tame."] 



[ 128 ] 



MARMIO N. 



CANTO FOURTH. 



Wt)t Camp. 



I. 

Eustace, I said, did blithely mark 
The first notes of the meny lark. 
The lark sang shrill, the cock he crew, 
And loudly Marmion's bugles blew, 
And with their light and lively call, 
Brought groom and yeoman to the stall. 

Whistling they came, and free of heart, 
But soon their mood was changed j 

Complaint was heard on every part, 
Of something disarranged. 
Some clamour'd loud for armour lost ; 
Some brawl'd and wrangled with the host ; 
" By Beckett bones," cried one, " I fear, 1 
That some false Scot has stolen my spear !" 

i [MS.—" 'By Becket\s bones,' cried one, « I swear.' ' "J 



Canto IV. the camp. 129 

Young Blount, Lord Marmion's second squire. 

Found his steed wet with sweat and mire ; 

Although the rated horse-boy sware, 

Last night he dress'd him sleek and fair. 

While chafed the impatient squire like thunder, 

Old Hubert shouts, in fear and wonder, — 

" Help, gentle Blount ! help, comrades all ! 

Bevis lies dying in his stall : 

To Marmion who the plight dare tell, 

Of the good steed he loves so well ?" — 

Gaping for fear and ruth, they saw 

The charger panting on his straw \ l 

Till one, who would seem wisest, cried, — . 

" What else but evil could betide, 

With that cursed Palmer for our guide ? 

Better we had through mire and bush 

Been lantern-led by Friar Rush." 2 

II. 

Fitz-Eustace, who the cause but guess'd, 
Nor wholly understood, 

i [MS.—" The good horse panting on the straw."] 
2 Alias " Will o' the Wisp." This personage is a strolling 
demon, or esprit follet, who, once upon a time, got admittance into 
a monastery as a scullion, and played the monks many pranks. He 
was also a sort of Robin Goodfellow, and Jack o' Lanthern. It 
is in allusion to this mischievous demon that Milton's clown 



" She was pinched, and pulled, she said, 
And he by Friar's lanthern led." 
" The History of Friar Rush" is of extreme rarity, and, for 
some time, even the existence of such a book was doubted, although 
it is expressly alluded to by Reginald Scot, in his " Discovery of 
Witchcraft." I have perused a copy in the valuable library of my 
friend Mr. Heber ; and I observe, from Mr. Beloe's " Anecdotes 
of Literature," that there is one in the excellent collection of the 
Marquis of Stafford. j 



130 MARMION. Canto IV. 

His comrades' clamorous plaints suppress'd ; 

He knew Lord Marmion's mood. 
Him, ere he issued forth, he sought, 
And found deep plunged in gloomy thought, 

And did his tale display 
Simply, as if he knew of nought 

To cause such disarray. 
Lord Marmion gave attention cold, 
Nor marvelPd at the wonders told, — 
PassM them as accidents of course, 
And bade his clarions sound to horse. 

III. 

Young Henry Blount, meanwhile, the cost 
Had reckon'd with their Scottish host ; 
And, as the charge he cast and paid, 
" 111 thou deservest thy hire,' 1 he said ; 
" Dost see. thou knave, my horse's plight ? 
Fairies have ridden him all the night, 

And left him in a foam ! 
I trust that soon a conjuring band, 
With English cross, and blazing brand, 1 
Shall drive the devils from this land, 

To their infernal home : 
For in this haunted den, I trow, 
All night they trampled to and fro." — 
The laughing host lookM on the hire, — 
" Gramercy, gentle southern squire, 
And if thou comest among the rest, 
With Scottish broadsword to be blest, 
Sharp be the brand, and sure the blow, 
And short the pang to undergo." 

1 [MS.— " With bloody cross and fiery brand.] 



Canto IV, the camp. 131 

Here stayM their talk, — for Marmion 
Gave now the signal to set on. 
The Palmer showing forth the way, 
They journey 'd all the morning day. 1 

IV. 

The green-sward way was smooth and good, 

Through Humbie's and through Saltoun's wood ; 

A forest glade, which, varying still, 

Here gave a view of dale and hill, 

There narrower closed, till over head 

A vaulted screen the branches made. 

44 A pleasant path," Fitz-Eustace said ; 

" Such as where errant-knights might see 

Adventures of high chivalry ; 

Might meet some damsel flying fast, 

With hair unbound, and looks aghast ; 

And smooth and level course were here, 

In her defence to break a spear. 

Here, too, are twilight nooks and dells ; 

And oft, in such, the story tells, 

The damsel kind, from danger freed, 

Did grateful pay her champion's meed." 

He spoke to cheer Lord Marmion's mind ; 

Perchance to show his lore design'd ; 

For Eustace much had pored 
Upon a huge romantic tome, 2 
In the hall- window of his home, 
Imprinted at the antique dome 

Of Caxton, or de Worde. 3 



1 [MS.-r- c< They journeyed till the middle day."] 

2 [MS.—"' Upon a black and ponderous tome."] 

3 [William Caxton, the earliest English printer, was born 



132 marmion. Canto IV. 

Therefore he spoke, — but spoke in vain, 
For Marmion answer'd nought again. 

V. 

Now sudden, distant trumpets shrill, 
In notes prolong'd by wood and hill, 

Were heard to echo far ; 
Each ready archer grasp'd his bow, 
But by the flourish soon they know, 

They breathed no point of war. 
Yet cautious, as in foeman's land, 
Lord Marmion 's order speeds the band, 

Some opener ground to gain ; 
And scarce a furlong had they rode, 
When thinner trees, receding, show'd 

A little woodland plain. 
Just in that advantageous glade, 
The halting troop a line had made, 
As forth from the opposing shade 

Issued a gallant train. 

VI. 

First came the trumpets, at whose clang 
So late the forest echoes rang ; 
On prancing steeds they forward press'd, 
With scarlet mantle, azure vest ; 
Each at his trump a banner wore, 
Which Scotland's royal scutcheon l bore : 



Kent, a.d. 1412, and died 1491. Wynken de Worde was his next 
successor in the production of those 

" Rare volumes, dark with tarnish'd gold," 
which are now the delight of bibliomaniacs.] 

1 |_The MS. has " Scotland's royal Lion" here; in line 9th, 
" scarlet tabards ;" and in line 12th, " blazoned truncheon."] 



Canto IV. the camp. 133 

Heralds and pursuivants, by name 
Bute, Islay, Marchmount, Rothsay, came, 
In painted tabards, proudly showing 
Gules, Argent, Or, and Azure glowing, 

Attendant on a King-at-arms, 
Whose hand the armorial truncheon held, 
That feudal strife had often quell'd, 

"When wildest its alarms. 

VII. 

He was a man of middle age ; 
In aspect manly, grave, and sage, 

As on King's errand come ; 
But in the glances of his eye, 
A penetrating, keen, and sly 

Expression found its home ; 
The flash of that satiric rage, 
Which, bursting on the early stage, 
Branded the vices of the age, 

And broke the keys of Home. 1 
On milk-white palfrey forth he paced ; 
His cap of maintenance was graced 

With the proud heron-plume. 
From his steed's shoulder, loin, and breast, 

Silk housings swept the ground, 
With Scotland's arms, device, and crest, 

Embroider'd round and round. 
The double tressure might you see, 

First by Achaius borne, 
The thistle and the fleur-de-lis, 

And gallant unicorn. 2 

* [MS. — " The flash of that satiric rage, 

Which, bursting from the early stage, 
Lash'd the coarse vices of the age," &c.] 
2 [MS.— " Silver unicorn." This, and the seven preceding tines, 
are interpolated in the blank page of the MS.] 



1 34 marmion. Canto I V, 

So bright the King's armorial coat, 
That scarce the dazzled eye could note, 
In living colours, blazon 'd brave, 
The Lion, which his title gave, 
A train, which well beseemed his state, 
But all unarm'd around him wait. 

Still is thy name in high account, 
And still thy verse has charms, 

Sir David Lindesay of the Mount, 
Lord Lion King-at-arms ! * 

VIII. 

Down from his horse did Marmion spring, 

Soon as he saw the Lion- King ; 

For well the stately Baron knew 

To him such courtesy was due, 

Whom royal James himself had crown'd, 

And on his temples placed the round 

Of Scotland's ancient diadem : 
And wet his brow with hallow'd wine, 
And on his finger given to shine 
The emblematic gem. 
Their mutual greetings duly made, 
The Lion thus his message said : — 
" Though Scotland's King hath deeply swore 2 
Ne'er to knit faith with Henry more, 
And Strictly hath forbid resort 
From England to his royal court •, 
Yet, for he knows Lord Marmion 's name, 
And honours much his warlike fame, 
My liege hath deem'd it shame, and lack 
Of courtesy, to turn him back ; 

1 [See Appendix, Note 2 I.] 

2 r MS. — " The Lion-King his message said :— 

' My Liege hath deep and deadly swore.' M Atc.1 



Canto IV. the camp. 135 

And, by his order, I, your guide, 
Must lodging fit and fair provide, 
Till finds King James meet time to see 
The flower of English chivalry." 

IX. 

Though inly chafed at this delay, 
Lord Marmion bears it as he may. 
The Palmer, his mysterious guide, 
Beholding thus his place supplied, 

Sought to take leave in vain : 
Strict was the Lion- King's command, 
That none, who rode in Marmion's band, 

Should sever from the train : 
" England has here enow of spies 
In Lady Heron's witching eyes :" 
To Marchmount thus, apart, he said, 
But fair pretext to Marmion made. 
The right-hand path they now decline, 
And trace against the stream the Tyne, 

X. 

At length up that wild dale they wind, 
Where Crichtoun Castle 1 crowns the bank ; 
For there the Lion's care assigned 
A lodging meet for Marmion's rank. 
That Castle rises on the steep 

Of the green vale of Tyne : 
And far beneath, where slow they creep, 
From pool to eddy, dark and deep, 
Where alders moist, and willows weep, 

You hear her streams repine. 2 

i [See Appendix, Note 2 K. ; and, for a fuller description of 
Crichton Castle, see Sir Walter Scott's Miscellaneous Prose Works, 
vol. vii. 

2 [MS. — " Her lazy streams repine."! 



13^ marmion. Canto IV. 

The towers in different ages rose ; 
Their various architecture shows 

The builders' various hands ; 
A mighty mass, that could oppose, 1 
When deadliest hatred fired its foes, 

The vengeful Douglas bands. 

XI. 

Crichtoun ! though now thy miry court 

But pens the lazy steer and sheep, 

Thy turrets rude, and totter'd Keep, 
Have been the minstrers loved resort. 
Oft have I traced, within thy fort, 

Of mouldering shields the mystic sense, 5 

Scutcheons of honour, or pretence, 
Quartered in old armorial sort, 

Remains of rude magnificence. 
Nor wholly yet had time defaced 

Thy lordly gallery fair ; 
Nor yet the stony cord unbraced, 
Whose twisted notes, with roses laced, 

Adorn thy ruin'd stair. 
Still rises unimpaired below, 
The court-yard's graceful portico ; 
Above its cornice, row and row 

Of fair hewn facets richly show 
Their pointed diamond form, 

Though there but houseless cattle go, 
To shield them from the storm. 

And, shuddering, still may we explore, 
Where oft whilom were captives pent, 

i [MS.— " But the huge mass could well oppose."] 
2 [MS.—" Of many a mouldering shield the sense. "1 



Canto IV. the camp. 137 

The darkness of thy Massy More -, 1 
Or, from thy grass-grown battlement, 
May trace, in undulating line, 
The sluggish mazes of the Tyne. 

XII. 

Another aspect Crichtoun show'd, 

As through its portal Marmion rode ; 

But yet 'twas melancholy state 

Received him at the outer gate : 

For none were in the Castle then, 

But women, boys, or aged men. 

With eyes scarce dried, the sorrowing dame, 

To welcome noble Marmion, came ; 

Her son, a stripling twelve years old, 

Proffer'd the Baron's rein to hold ; 

For each man that could draw a sword 

Had march 'd that morning with their lord, 

Earl Adam Hepburn, — he who died 

On Flodden, by his sovereign's side, 2 

Long may his Lady look in vain ! 

She ne'er shall see his gallant train, 3 

1 The pit, or prison vault. — [See Appendix, Note 2 L.] 
2 He was the second Earl of Bothwell, and fell in the field ot 
Flodden, where, according to an ancient English poet, he distin- 
guished himself by a furious attempt to retrieve the day : — 
" Then on the Scottish part, right proud, 

The Earl of Bothwell then out brast, 
And stepping forth, with stomach good, 

Into the enemies' throng he thrast ; 
And Bothwell ! Bothwell / cried bold, 

To cause his souldiers to ensue, 
But there he caught a wellcome cold, 

The Englishmen straight down him threw. 
Thus Haburn through his hardy heart 
His fatal fine in conflict found," &c. 
Flodden Field, a Poem ; edited by H. Weber. Edin. 1S08. 
3 [MS. — "Well might his gentle Lady mourn, 

Doom'd ne'er to see her Lord's return. "2 



133 marmiox. Canto IV. 

Come sweeping back through Crichtoun-Dean. 
'Twas a brave race, before the name 
Of hated Bothwell stain'd their fame. 1 

XIII. 

And here two days did Marmion rest, 
With every rite that honour claims, 

Attended as the King's own guest ; — 
Such the command of Royal James, 

Who marshall'd then his land's array, 

Upon the Borough-moor that lay. 

Perchance he would not foeman's eye 

Upon his gathering host should pry, 

Till full prepared was every band 

To march against the English land. 

Here while they dwelt, did Lindesay's wit 

Oft cheer the Baron's moodier fit •, 

And, in his turn, he knew to prize 

Lord Marmion's powerful mind, and wise, — 

Train'd in the lore of Rome and Greece, 

And policies of war and peace. 2 

XIV. 

It chanced, as fell the se-'ond night, 

That on the battlements they walk'd, 
And, by the slowly fading light, 

Of varying topics talk VI ; 
And, unaware, the Herald-bard 3 
Said, Marmion might his toil have spared, 
i Adam was grandfather to James, Earl of Bothwell, too well 
known in the history of Queen Mary. 

2 [MS.— "Nor less the Hen Id Monarch knew 

The Baron's powers to value true — 
Hence confidence between them grew."] 

3 MS. — " Then fell from Lindesay, unaware, 

That Marmion might | his ^ .. 

Marmion might well J ■ J 



Canto IV. the camp. 1 33 

In travelling so far ; 
For that a messenger from heaven 
In vain to James had counsel given 

Against the English war i 1 
And, closer questional, thus he told 
A tale, which chronicles of old 
In Scottish story have enrolPd : — 

XV. 

" Of all the palaces so fair, 
Built for the royal dwelling, 

In Scotland, far beyond compare 
Linlithgow is excelling -, 2 
And in its park, in jovial June, 
How sweet the merry linnet's tune, 

How blithe the blackbird's lay ! 
The wild-buck bells 3 from ferny brake, 
The coot dives merry on the lake, 
The saddest heart might pleasure take 

To see all nature gay. 
But June is to our Sovereign dear 
The heaviest month in all the year : 
Too well his cause of grief you know, 
June saw his father's overthrow. 4 

1 [See Appendix, Note 2 M.] 

2 [See Appendix, Note 2 N.] 

3 I am glad of an opportunity to describe the cry of the deer "by 
another word than braying, although the latter has been sanctified 
by the use of the Scottish metrical translation of the Psalms. Bell 
seems to be an abbreviation of bellow. This silvan sound conveyed 
great delight to our ancestors, chiefly, I suppose, from association. 
A gentle knight in the reign of Henry VIII., Sir Thomas Worthy, 
built Wantley Lodge, in Wancliffe Forest, for the pleasure (as an 
ancient inscription testifies) of "listening to the hart's ~bdU y 

4 [See Appendix, Note 2 0."] 



140 marmion. Canto IV. 

Woe to the traitors, who could bring 
The princely boy against his King ! 
Still in his conscience burns the sting. 
In offices as strict as Lent, 
King James's June is ever spent. 1 

XVI. 

" When last this ruthful month was come, 
And in Linlithgow's holy dome 

The King as wont, was praying ; 
While, for his royal father's soul, 
The chanters sung, the bells did toll, 

The Bishop mass was saying — 
For now the year brought round again 2 
The day the luckless King was slain — 
In Katharine's aisle the Monarch knelt, 
With sackcloth-shirt, and iron belt, 

And eyes with sorrow streaming \ 
Around him in their stalls of state, 
The Thistle's Knight-Companions sate, 

Their banners o'er them beaming. 
I too was there, and, sooth to tell, 
Bedeafen'd with the jangling knell, 
Was watching where the sunbeams fell, 

Through the stain'd casement gleaming ; 
But, while I marked what next befell, 

It seem'd as I were dreaming. 

I [MS.— "In offices as strict as Lent, 

And penances his Junes are spent."] 

9 [MS. — " For now the year brought round again 

The very day that he \ 1 • 

The day that the third James / was SIam — 

In Katharine's aisle the Monarch kneels, 

And folded hands > , . . . r . ,., 

. ,. , , 3 r show what he feels. | 

And hands sore clasped J 



Cailto IV. THE CAMP. 141 

Stepp'd from the crowd a ghostly wight, 
In azure gown, with cincture white ; 
His forehead bald, his head was bare, 
Down hung at length his yellow hair — 
Now, mock me not, when, good my Lord, 
I pledge to you my knightly word, 
That, when I saw his placid grace, 
His simple majesty of face, 
His solemn bearing, and his pace 

So stately gliding on, — 
Seem'd to me ne'er did limner paint 
So just an image of the Saint 
Who propp'd the Virgin in her faint, — 

The loved Apostle John ! 

XVII. 

M He stepp'd before the Monarch's chair, 
And stood with rustic plainness there, 

And little reverence made •, 
Nor head, nor body, bow'd nor bent, 
But on the desk his arm he leant, 

And words like these he said, 
In a low voice, — but never tone 1 
So thrilPd through vein, and nerve, and bone : — 
' My mother sent me from afar, 
Sir King, to warn thee not to war, — 

Woe waits on thine array •, 
If war thou wilt, of woman fair, 2 
Her witching wiles and wanton snare, 
James Stuart, doubly warn'd beware : 

God keep thee as he ma)' !'— =- 

i [MS.—" In a low voice — but every tone 

Thrill' d through, the listener's vein and bone. ''] 

2 [MS. — "And if to war thou needs wilt fare 
Of wanton wiles and woman's ~i 
Of woman's wiles and wanton ) snare - J 



142 MARMION. Canto IV. 

The wondering Monarch seenrd to seek 

For answer, and found none ; 
And when he raised his head to speak, 

The monitor was gone. 
The Marshal and myself had cast 
To stop him as he outward pass'd ; 
But, lighter than the whirlwind's blast, 

He vanish 'd from our eyes, 
Like sunbeam on the billow cast, 

That glances but, and dies." 

XVIII. 

"While Lindesay told his marvel strange, 
The twilight was so pale, 

He mark'd not Marmion's colour change, 
While listening to the tale : 

But, after a suspended pause, 

The Baron spoke : — " Of Nature's laws 
So strong I held the force, 

That never superhuman cause 
Could e'er control their course ; 
And, three days since, had judged your aim 
Was but to make your guest your game. 
But I have seen, since past the Tweed, 1 
What much has changed my sceptic creed. 
And made me credit aught." — He staid, 
And seem'd to wish his words unsaid : 
But, by that strong emotion pressed, 
Which prompts us to unload our breast, 

Even when discovery's pain, 
To Lindesay did at length unfold 
The tale his village host had told, 

At Gifford, to his train. 

1 [MS.—" But events, since I cross'd the Tweed, 
Have undermined my sceptic creed.'*] 



Canto IV. the camp. 143 

Nought of the Palmer says he there, 
And nought of Constance, or of Clare ; 
The thoughts, which broke his sleep, he seems 
To mention but as feverish dreams. 

XIX. 

*' In vain," said he, " to rest I spread 
My burning limbs, and couch 'd my head: 

Fantastic thoughts returned ; 
And, by their wild dominion led, 
My heart within me burn'd. 1 
So sore was the delirious goad, 
I took my steed, and forth I rode, 
And, as the moon shone bright and cold, 
Soon reach'd the camp upon the wold. 
The southern entrance I pass'd through, 
And halted, and my bugle blew, 
Meth ought an answer met my ear, — 
Yet was the blast so low and drear, 2 
So hollow, and so faintly blown, 
It might be echo of my own. 

XX. 

" Thus judging, for a little space 
I listen 'd, ere I left the place ; 
But scarce could trust my eyes, 

1 [MS.— "In vain," said he, "to rest I laid 

My burning limbs, and throbbing head- 
Fantastic thoughts returned ; 

(led, 
And, by their wild dominion •< sway'd, 
( sped, 
My heart within me burn'd."] 

2 [MS. — "And yet it was so low and drear."] 



144 marmion. Canto IV. 

Nor yet can think they served me true, 
When sudden in the ring I view, 
In form distinct of shape and hue, 

A mounted champion rise 

I've fought, Lord-Lion, many a day, 1 
In single fight, and mix'd affray, 
And ever, I myself may say, 

Have borne me as a knight ; 
But when this unexpected foe 
Seem'd starting from the gulf below,— 
I care not though the truth I show, — 

I trembled with affright ; 
And as I placed in rest my spear, 
My hand so shook for very fear, 

I scarce could couch it right. 

XXL 

" Why need my tongue the issue tell ? 
We ran our course, — my charger fell ; — 
What could he 'gainst the shock of hell ? — 

I rolPd upon the plain. 
High o'er my head, with threatening hand, 
The spectre shook his naked brand, — 2 

Yet did the worst remain : 
My dazzled eyes I upward cast, — 
Not opening hell itself could blast 

Their sight, like what I saw ! 



i [MS.— "I've been, Lord-Lion, many a day, 

In combat single, or melee."] 

2 [MS.—" The spectre shook his naked brand,— 

Yet doth the worst remain : 

My reeling eyes I upward cast,— 

But opening hell could never blast 

Their sight like what I saw. "J 



Canto IV. the gamp, 145 

Full on his face the moonbeam strook, — 
A face could never be mistook ! 
I knew the stern vindictive look, 

And held my breath for awe. 
I saw the face of one who, fled, 1 
To foreign climes, has long been dead,— . 

I well believe the last ; 
For ne'er, from vizor raised, did stare 
A human warrior, with a glare 

So grimly and so ghast. 
Thrice o'er my head he shook the blade ; 
But w r hen to good Saint George I pray'd, 
(The first time e'er I askM his aid,) 

H e plunged it in the sheath ; 
And, on his courser mounting light, 
He seem'd to vanish from my sight : 
The moonbeam droop'd, and deepest night 

Sunk down upon the heath 

'Twere long to tell what cause I have 
To know his face, that met me there, 

Cail'd by his hatred from the grave, 
To cumber upper air : 
Dead, or alive, good cause had he 
To be my mortal enemy." 

XXII. 

MarvellM Sir David of the Mount ; 
Then, learn'd in story, 'gan recount 



I [MS. — " I knew the face of one long dead, 
Or who to foreign climes hath fled . . 

I knew the face of one who fled 
To foreign climes, or long since dead- 
I well may judge the last."] 
K 



146 MARMION. Cu/itu IV. 

Such chance had happ'd of old, 
When once, near Norham, there did fight 
A spectre fell of fiendish might, 
In likeness of a Scottish knight, 

With Brian Bulmer bold, 
And train'd him nigh to disallow 
The aid of his baptismal vow. 
" And such a phantom, too, 'tis said, 
With Highland broadsword, targe, and plaid, 

And fingers red with gore, 
Is seen in Rothiemurcus glade, 
Or where the sable pine-trees shade 
Dark Tomantoul, and Auchnaslaid, 

Dromouchty, or Glenmore. 1 
And yet, whate'er such legends say, 
Of warlike demon, ghost, or fay, 

On mountain, moor, or plain, 
Spotless in faith, in bosom bold, 2 
True son of chivalry should hold 

These midnight terrors vain ; 
For seldom have such spirits power 
To harm, save in the evil hour, 
When guilt we meditate within, 3 
Or harbour unrepented sin.'" — 
Lord Marmion turn'd him half aside, 
And twice to clear his voice he tried, 

Then press M Sir David's hand, — 
But nought, at length, in answer said ; 
And here their farther converse staid, 

1 See the traditions concerning Bulmer, and the spectre called 
Lhamdearq, or Bloody-hand, in a note on Canto iii. [Appendix, 
Note 2 H.] 

2 [MS.— " Of spotless faith, and bosom bold." 

3 [MS.—" When mortals meditate within 

Fresh guilt, or unrepented sin.'") 



Canto IV. the camp. 147 

Each ordering that his band 
Should bowne them with the rising day, 
To Scotland's camp to take their way, — 

Such was the King's command. 

XXIII. 

Early they took Dun-Edin's road, 
And I could trace each step they trode : 
Hill, brook, nor dell, nor rock, nor stone, 
Lies on the path to me unknown. 
Much might it boast of storied lore ; 
But, passing such digression o'er, 
Suffice it that their route was laid 
Across the furzy hills of Braid. 
They pass'd the glen and scanty rill, 
And climb 'd the opposing bank, until 
They gain'd the top of Blackford Hill. 

XXIV. 

Blackford ! on whose uncultured breast, 

Among the broom, and thorn, and whin, 
A truant-boy, I sought the nest, 
Or listed, as I lay at rest, 

While rose, on breezes thin, 
The murmur of the city crowd, 
And from his steeple jangling loud, 

Saint Giles's mingling din. 
Now, from the summit to the plain, 
Waves all the hill with yellow grain ; 

And o'er the landscape as I look, 
Nought do I see unchanged remain, 

Save the rude cliffs and chiming brook. 
To me they make a heavy moan. 
Of early friendships past and gone. 



1-18 marmion. Canto IV. 

XXV. 
But different far the change has been, 1 

Since Marmion, from the crown 
Of Blackford, saw that martial scene 

Upon the bent so brown : 
Thousand pavilions, white as snow, 
Spread all the Borough-moor below, 2 

Upland, and dale, and down : — 
A thousand did I say ? I ween, 3 
Thousands on thousands there were seen, 
That chequer'd all the heath between 

The streamlet and the town ; 
In crossing ranks extending far, 
Forming a camp irregular ; 4 
Oft giving way, where still there stood 
Some relics of the old oak wood, 
That darkly huge did intervene, 
And tamed the glaring white with green : 
In these extended lines there lay 
A martial kingdom's vast array. 

XXVI. 

For from Hebudes, dark with rain, 
To eastern Lodon's fertile plain, 
And from the southern Redswire edge, 
To farthest Rosse's rocky ledge ; 

1 [MS. — " But, oh ! far different change has been 

Since Marmion, from the crown 
Of Bla kfordhill, upon the scene 
Of Scotland's war look'd down."] 

2 See Appendix, Note 2 P. 

3 [MS. — " A thousand said the verse? I ween, 

Thousands on thousands there were seen, 
That whitened all the heath between."] 
•* [Here ends the stanza in the MS.] 



Cafdo IV. THE CAMP. rf9 

From west to east, from 30uth to north, 
Scotland sent all her warriors forth. 
Marmion might hear the mingled hum 
Of myriads up the mountain come ; 
The horses 1 tramp, and tingling clank, 
Where chiefs review'd their vassal rank, 

And charger's shrilling neigh ; 
And see the shifting lines advance, 
While frequent flash'd, from shield and lance, 

The sun's reflected ray. 

XXVII. 

Thin curling in the morning air, 

The wreaths of failing smoke declare 

To embers now the brands decay'd, 

Where the night-watch their fires had made. 

They saw, slow rolling on the plain, 

Full many a baggage-cart and wain, 

And dire artillery's clumsy car, 

By sluggish oxen tugg'd to war ; 

And there were Borthwick's Sisters Seven, 1 

And culverins which France had given. 

Jll-omen'd gift ! the guns remain 

The conqueror's spoil on Flodden plain. 

XXVIII. 

Nor mark'd they less, where in the air 

A thousand streamers flaunted fair ; 
Various in shape, device, and hue, 
Green, sanguine, purple, red, and blue, 

Broad, narrow, swallow-tail'd, and square, 

Scroll, pennon, pensil, bandrol, 2 there 

1 Seven culverins so called, cast by one Borthwick. 

2 Each of these feudal ensigns intimated the different rank of 
those entitled to display them. 



150 marmion. Canto IV. 

O'er the pavilions flew. 1 
Highest, and midmost, was descried 
The royal banner floating wide ; 

The staff, a pine-tree, strong and straight, 2 
Pitch'd deeply in a massive stone, 
Which still in memory is shown, 

Yet bent beneath the standard's weight 
Whene'er the western wind unroll'd, 

With toil, the huge and cumbrous fold, 
And gave to view the dazzling field, 
Where, in proud Scotland's royal shield, 

The ruddy lion ramp'd in gold. 3 

XXIX. 

Lord Marmion view'd the landscape bright, — 4 
He view'd it with a chief's delight, — 
Until within him burn'd his heart, 
And lightning from his eye did part, 

As on the battle-day ; 
Such glance did falcon never dart, 
When stooping on his prey. 

1 [See Appendix, Note 2 Q.] 

2 [MS. — " The standard staff, a mountain pine, 

Pitch'd in a huge memorial stone, 
That still in monument is shown."] 
3 The well-known arms of Scotland. If you will believe Boethius 
and Buchanan, the double tressure round the shield, mentioned, 
p. 199, counter fleur-de-lysed, or lingucd and armed azure, was first 
assumed by Achaius, King of Scotland, contemporary of Charle- 
magne, and founder of the celebrated League with France ; but 
later antiquaries make poor Eochy, or Achy, little better than a 
sort of King of Brentford, whom old Grig (who has also swelled 
into Gregorius Magnus) associated with himself in the important 
duty of governing some part of the north-eastern coast of Scotland. 
4 [MS. — " Lord Marmion's large dark eye fiash'd light, 
It kindled with a chief's delight, 
For glow'd with martial joy his heart, 
As upon battle day."] 



Canto IV. THE CAMP. 151 

" Oh ! well, Lord-Lion, hast thou said^ 
Thy King from warfare to dissuade 

Were but a vain essay : 
For, by St. George, were that host mine, 
Not power infernal, nor divine, 
Should once to peace my soul incline, 
Till I had dimm'd their armour's shine 

In glorious battle-fray ! " 
Answer'd the Bard, of milder mood : 
" Fair is the sight, — and yet 'twere good, 

That Kings would think withal, 
When peace and wealth their land has bless'd, 
Tis better to sit still at rest, 1 

Than rise, perchance to fall. 1 ' 

XXX. 

Still on the spot Lord Marmion stay'd, 
For fairer scene he ne'er survey'd. 
When sated with the martial show 
That peopled all the plain below, 
The wandering eye could o'er it go, 
And mark the distant city glow 

With gloomy splendour red ; 
For on the smoke- wreaths, huge and slow, 
That round her sable turrets flov\ 7 , 

The morning beams were shed, 
And tinged them with a lustre proud, 
Like that which streaks a thunder-cloud. 

1 [MS.—" 'Tis better sitting still at rest, 
Than rising but to fall ; 
And while these words they did exchange, 
They reached the camp's extremest range. " 
The Poet appears to have struck his pen through the two lines 
in italics, on conceiving the magnificent picture vrhich replaces 
them m the text.] 



152 marmion. Canto IV. 

Such dusky grandeur clothed the height, 
Where the huge Castle holds its state, 

And all the steep slope down, 
Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky, 
Piled deep and massy, close and high, 

Mine own romantic town I x 
But northward far, with purer blaze, 
On Ochil mountains fell the rays, 
And as each heathy top they kiss'd, 
It gleam 'd a purple amethyst. 
Yonder the shores of Fife you saw ; 
Here Preston-Bay, and Berwick-Law ; 

And, broad between them roll'd, 
The gallant Frith the eye might note, 
Whose islands on its bosom float, 

Like emeralds chased in gold. 
Fitz-Eustace' heart felt closely pent ; 
As if to give his rapture vent, 
The spur he to his charger lent, 

And raised his bridle hand, 
And, making demi-volte in air, 
Cried, " Where's the coward that would not dare 

To fight for such a land ? " 
The Lindesay smiled his joy to see *, 2 
Nor Marmion's frown repress'd his glee. 

XXXI. 

Thus while they look'd, a flourish proud, 
Where mingled trump, and clarion loud, 
And fife, and kettle-drum, 



1 [MS. — " Dun-Edin's tower and town."] 

2 [MS. — " The Lion smiled his joy to see. "J 



Canto IV. the camp, 153 

And sackbut deep, and psaltery, 
And war-pipe with discordant cry, 
And cymbal clattering to the sky, 
Making wild music bold and high, 

Did up the mountain come ; 
The whilst the bells, with distant chime, 
Merrily tolPd the hour of prime, 

And thus the Lindesay spoke : l 
" Thus clamour still the war-notes when 
The King to mass his way has ta'en, 
Or to St. Katharine's of Sienne, 2 

Or Chapel of St. Rocque. 
To you they speak of martial fame \ 3 
But me remind of peaceful game, 

When blither was their cheer, 
Thrilling in Falkland- woods the air, 
In signal none his steed should spare, 
But strive which foremost might repair 

To the downfall of the deer. 

XXXII, 

" Nor less, 1 ' he said, — " when looking forth, 
I view yon Empress of the North 

Sit on her hilly throne ; 
Her palace's imperial bowers, 
Her castle, proof to hostile powers, 
Her stately halls and holy towers — 4 

Nor less," he said, " I moan, 

1 [MS. — " And thus the Lion spoke."] 

2 [MS. — " Or to our Lady's of Sienne."] 

3 [MS. — " To you they speak of mailial fame, 

To me of mood more mild and tame — 
Blither would he their cheer."] 

4 [MS. — " Her stately fanes and holy towers.""} 



154 marmion. Canto TV. 

To think what woe mischance may bring, 
And how these merry bells may ring 
The death-dirge of our gallant King ; 

Or with the lanim call 
The burghers forth to watch and ward, 
'Gainst southern sack and fires to guard, 

Dun-Edin's leaguer'd wall 

But not for my presaging thought, 
Dream conquest sure, or cheaply bought ! 1 

Lord Marmion, I say nay : 
God is the guider of the field, 
He breaks the champion's spear and shield, — 

But thou thyself shalt say, 
When joins yon host in deadly stowre, 
That England's dames must weep in bower, 
Her monks the death-mass sing -, 2 
For never saw'st thou such a power 

Led on by such a King." — 
And now, down winding to the plain, 
The barriers of the camp they gain, 

And there they made a stay — 
There stays the Minstrel, till he fling 
His hand o'er every Border string, 
And fit his harp the pomp to sing, 
Of Scotland's ancient Court and King, 

In the succeeding lay. 

' [MS.—" Dream of a conquest cheaply bought."] 
2 [MS,— <c Their monks dead masses sing."] 



[ 155 ] 



MARMION. 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH. 



GEORGE ELLIS, Esq. 1 



Edinburgh, 

When dark December glooms the day, 

And takes our autumn joys away ; 

When short and scant the sunbeam throws, 

Upon the weary waste of snows, 

A cold and profitless regard, 

Like patron on a needy bard ; 

When silvan occupation's done, 

And o'er the chimney rests the gun, 

And hang, in idle trophy, near, 

The game-pouch, fishing-rod, and spear ; 

1 [This accomplished gentleman, the well-known coadjutor of 
Mr. Canning and Mr. Frere in the " Antijacobin," and editor of 
" Specimens of Ancient English Romances," &c, died 10th April, 
I8l5j aged 70 years ; being succeeded in his estates by his brother, 
Charles Ellis, Esq., created; in 1827, Lord Seaford.— Ed.] 



156 MARMION. 

When wiry terrier, rough and grim, 
And greyhound, with his length of limb, 
And pointer, now employed no more, 
Cumber our parlour's narrow floor ; 
When in his stall the impatient steed 
Is long condemn'd to rest and feed ; 
When from our snow-encircled home, 
Scarce cares the hardiest step to roam, 
Since path is none, save that to bring 
The needful water from the spring ; 
When wrinkled news-page, thrice conn'd o'er, 
Beguiles the dreary hour no more, 
And darkling politician, cross'd, 
Inveighs against the lingering post, 
And answering housewife sore complains 
Of carriers' snow-impeded wains ; 
When such the country cheer, I come, 
Well pleased, to seek our city home ; 
For converse, and for books, to change 
The Forest's melancholy range, 
And welcome, with renew'd delight, 
The busy day and social night. 

Not here need my desponding rhyme 
Lament the ravages of time, 
As erst by Newark's riven towers, 
And Ettrick stripp'd of forest bowers. 1 
True, — Caledonia's Queen is changed, 2 
Since on her dusky summit ranged, 

i See Introduction to Canto ii. 

2 The Old Town of Edinburgh was secured on the north side by 
a lake, now drained, and on the south by a wall, which there waa 
some attempt to make defensible even so late as 1745. The gates, 
and the greater part of the wall, have been pulled down, in the 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH. 157 

Within its steepy limits pent, 
By bulwark, line, and battlement, 
And flanking towers, and laky flood, 
Guarded and garrison'd she stood, 
Denying entrance or resort, 
Save at each tall embattled port ; 
Above whose arch, suspended, hung 
Portcullis spiked with iron prong. 
That long is gone, — but not so long 
Since, early closed, and opening late, 
Jealous revolved the studded gate, 
Whose task, from eve to morning tide, 
A wicket churlishly supplied. 
Stern then, and steel-girt was thy brow, 
Dun-Edin ! O, how altered now, 
When safe amid thy mountain court 
Thou sit'st, like Empress at her sport, 
And liberal, unconfined, and free, 
Flinging thy white arms to the sea. 1 
For thy dark cloud, with umber'd lower, 
That hung o'er cliff, and lake, and tower, 
Thou gleam'st against the western ray 
Ten thousand lines of brighter day. 

course of the late extensive and beautiful enlargement of the city. 
My ingenious and valued friend, Mr. Thomas Campbell, proposed 
to celebrate Edinburgh under the epithet here borrowed. But the 
'• Queen of the North has not been so fortunate as to receive from 
so eminent a pen the proposed distinction. 

1 Since writing this line, I find I have inadvertently borrowed 
it almost verbatim, though with somewhat a different meaning, 
from a chorus in " Caractacus :" — 

" Britain heard the descant bold, 

She flung her white arms o'er the sea, 
Proud in her leafy bosom to enfold 
The freight of harmony." 



Not she, the Championess of old, 
In Spenser's magic tale enroll 'd, 
She for the charmed spear renown'd. 
Which forced each knight to kiss the ground,— 
Not she more changed, when, placed at rest, 
What time she was Malbecco's guest, 1 
She gave to flow her maiden vest ; 
"When from the corslet's grasp relieved, 
Free to the sight her bosom heaved ; 
Sweet was her blue eye's modest smile, 
Erst hidden by the aventayle ; 
And down her shoulders graceful roll'd 
Her locks profuse, of paly gold. 
They who whilom, in midnight fight, 
Had marvelPd at her matchless might, 
No less her maiden charms approved, 
But looking liked, and liking loved. 2 
The sight could jealous pangs beguile, 
And charm Malbecco's cares awhile ; 
And he, the wandering Squire of Dames, 
Forgot his Columbella's claims, 
And passion, erst unknown, could gain 
The breast of blunt Sir Satyrane ; 
Nor durst light Paridel advance, 
Bold as he was, a looser glance. 
She charmed, at once, and tamed the heart. 
Incomparable Britomarte ! 

So thou, fair City ! disarray 'd 
Of battled wall, and rampart's aid, 

1 See " The Fairy Queen," book iii. canto ix. 

2 " For every one her liked, and every one her loved." 

Spenser, as above 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH. lOJ 

As stately seem'st, but lovelier far 
Than in that panoply of war. 
Nor deem that from thy fenceless throne 
Strength and security are flown ; 
Still, as of yore, Queen of the North ! 
Still canst thou send thy children forth. 
Ne'er readier at alarm-bell's call 
Thy burghers rose to man thy wall, 
Than now, in danger, shall be thine, 
Thy dauntless voluntary line ; 
For fosse and turret proud to stand, 
Their breasts the bulwarks of the land. 
Thy thousands, train'd to martial toil, 
Full red would stain their native soil, 
Ere from thy mural crown there fell 
The slightest knosp, or pinnacle. 
And if it come, — as come it may, 
Dun-Edin ! that eventful day, — 
Renown'd for hospitable deed, 
That virtue much with Heaven may plead, 
In patriarchal times whose care 
Descending angels deign'd to share ; 
That claim may wrestle blessings down 
On those who fight for The Good Town, 
Destined in every age to be 
Refuge of injured royalty ; 
Since first, when conquering York arose, 
To Henry meek she gave repose, 1 
Till late, with worder, grief, and awe, 
Great Bourbon's relics, sad she saw. 2 

1 See Appendix, Note 2 R. 
2 [In January 1796, the exiled Count d'Artois, afterwards Charles 
X. of France, took up his residence in Holyrood, -where he remain- 
ed until August 1799. When again driven from his country, by 



1 GO MARMION. 

Truce to these thoughts ! — for, as they rise, 
How gladly I avert mine eyes, 
Bodings, or true or false, to change, 
For Fiction's fair romantic range, 
Or for Tradition's dubious light, 
That hovers 'twixt the day and night • 
Dazzling alternately and dim, 
Her wavering lamp I'd rather trim, 
Knights, squires, and lovely dames, to see, 
Creation of my fantasy, 
Than gaze abroad on reeky fen, 1 

And make of mists invading men 

Who loves not more the night of June 
Than dull December's gloomy noon ? 
The moonlight than the fog of frost ? 
And can we say, which cheats the most ? 

But who shall teach my harp to gain 
A sound of the romantic strain, 
Whose Anglo-Norman tones whilere 
Could win the royal Henry's ear, 2 



the Revolution of July 1830, the same unfortunate Prince, with all 
the immediate members of his family, sought refuge once more in 
the ancient palace of the Stuarts, and remained there until 10th 
September, 1832.] 

1 r MS. — "Than gaze out on the foggy fen."] 
£ Mr. Elite, in his valuable Introduction to the " Specimens of 
Romance," has proved, by the concurring testimony of La Ravail- 
erle, Tressan, but especially the Abbe de la Rue, that the courts 
of our Anglo-Norman Kings, rather than those of the French 
monarch, produced the birth of Romance literature. Marie, soon 
after mentioned, compiled from Armorican originals, and transla- 
ted into Norman-French, or Romance language, the twelve curious 
Lays of which Mr. Ellis has given us a precis in the Appendix to 
his Introduction. The story of Blondcl, the famous and faithful 
minstrel of Richard L, needs no commentary. 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH. 161 

Famed Beauclerc call'd, for that he loved 

The minstrel, and his lay approved ? 

Who shall these lingering notes redeem, 

Decaying on Oblivion's stream ; 

Such notes as from the Breton tongue 

Marie translated, Blondel sung ? — 

O ! born Time's ravage to repair, 

And make the dying Muse thy care ; 

Who, when his scythe her hoary foe 

Was poising for the final blow, 

The weapon from his hand could wring, 

And break his glass, and shear his wing, 

And bid, reviving in his strain, 

The gentle poet live again ; 

Thou, who canst give to lightest lay 

An unpedantic moral gay, 

Nor less the dullest theme bid flit 

On wings of unexpected wit ; 

In letters as in life approved, 

Example honour'd, and beloved, — 

Dear Ellis ! to the bard impart 

A lesson of thy magic art, 

To win at once the head and heart, — 

At once to charm, instruct, and mend, 

My guide, my pattern, and my friend ! l 

Such minstrel lesson to bestow 
Be long thy pleasing task, — but, O ! 
No more by thy example teach, 
— What few can practise, all can preach,— 



1 [" Come then, my friend, my genius, come along, 
Oh master of the poet and the song !" 

Pope to Bqlingeroke.] 



I 62 M ARM ION. 

With even patience to endure 
Lingering disease, and painful cure, 
And boast affliction's pangs subdued 
By mild and manly fortitude. 
Enough, the lesson has been given : 
Forbid the repetition, Heaven ! 

Come listen, then ! for thou hast known, 
And loved the Minstrel's varying tone, 
Who, like his Border sires of old, 
Waked a wild measure rude and bold, 
Till Windsor's oaks, and Ascot plain, 
With wonder heard the northern strain. 1 
Come listen ! bold in thy applause, 
The Bard shall scorn pedantic laws ; 
And, as the ancient art could stain 
Achievements on the storied pane, 
Irregularly traced and plann'd, 
But yet so glowing and so grand, — 
So shalMie strive, in changeful hue, 
Field, feast, and combat to renew, 
And loves, and arms, and harpers' glee, 
And all the pomp of chivalry. 

i [At Sunning-hill, Mr. Ellis's seat, near Windsor, part of the 
first two cantos of Marmion were written.] 



I 163 ] 



MABMIO N. 



CANTO FIFTH. 



€I)e C0ttrt. 



I. 

The train has left the hills of Braid : 
The barrier guard have open made 
(So Lindesay bade) the palisade, 

That closed the tented ground ; 
Their men the warders backward drew, 
And carried pikes as they rode through 

Into its ample bound. 1 
Fast ran the Scottish warriors there, 
Upon the Southern band to stare. 



1 [MS.—" The barrier guard the Lion knew, 

Advanced their pikes, and soon withdrew 
The slender palisades and few 

That closed the tented ground ; 
And Marmion with his train rode through, 
Across its ample hound.""] 



164 marmion. Canto V. 

And envy with their wonder rose, 
To see such well-appointed foes ; 
Such length of shafts, such mighty bows, 1 
So huge, that many simply thought, 
But for a vaunt such weapons wrought ; 
And little deem'd their force to feel, 
Through links of mail, and plates of steel, 
When rattling upon Flodden vale, 
The cloth-yard arrows flew like hail. 2 

II. 

Nor less did Marmion's skilful view, 
Glance every line and squadron through ; 
And much he marvell'd one small land 
Could marshal forth such various band : 

For men-at-arms were here, 
Heavily sheathed in mail and plate, 
Like iron towers for strength and weight, 
On Flemish steeds of bone and height, 

"With battle-axe and spear. 
Young knights and squires, a lighter train, 
Practised their chargers on the plain, 3 
By aid of leg, of hand, and rein, 

Each warlike feat to show, 

i [MS. — " So long their shafts, so large their bows."] 
2 This is no poetical exaggeration. In some of the counties of 
England, distinguished for archery, shafts of this extraordinary 
length were actually used. Thus, at the battle of Blackheatli, 
between the troops of Henry VII. and the Cornish insurgents, in 
1496, the bridge of Dartford was defended by a picked band of 
archers from the rebel army, " whose arrows," says Hollinshed, 
" were in length a full cloth yard." The Scottish, according to 
Ascham, had a proverb, that every English archer carried under 
his belt twenty-four Scots, in allusion to his bundle of unerring 
(shafts. 

s [MS.-—" There urged their chargers on the plain." 1 



Canto V. THE court. I Go 

To pass, to wheel, the croupe to gain, 
And high curvett, that not in vain 
The sword sway might descend amain 

On foeman's casque below. 1 
He saw the hardy burghers there 
March arm'd, on foot, with faces bare. 2 

For vizors they wore none, 
Nor waving plume, nor crest of knight ; 
But burnish 'd were their corslets bright, 
Their brigantines, and gorgets light, 

Like very silver shone. 
Long pikes they had for standing fight. 

Two-handed swords they wore, 
And many wielded mace of weight, 

And bucklers bright they bore. 

III. 

On foot the yeoman too, but dress 1 d 
In his steel-jack, a swarthy vest, 

With iron quilted well ; 
Each at his back (a slender store) 
His forty days' provision bore, 

As feudal statutes tell. 
His arms were halbert, axe, or spear, 4 
A crossbow there, a hagbut here, 

A dagger-knife, and brand. 

i See Appendix, Note 2 S. 

2 The Scottish burgesses were, like yeomen, appointed to be 
armed with bows and sheaves, sword, buckler, knife, spear, or a 
good axe instead of a bow, if worth i'100: their armour to be of 
white or bright harness. They wore tvhite hats, i.e. bright steel 
caps, without crest or visor. By an act of James IV. their toea- 
ponrSchaivings are appointed to be held four times a-year, under 
the aldermen or bailiffs. 

3 [MS.—" And malls did many -f ^^ \ of weight. "] 

4 See Appendix. Note 2 T 



166 m arm ion. Canto V. 

Sober he seem'd, and sad of cheer, 
As loth to leave his cottage dear, 
And march to foreign strand ; 
Or musing, who would guide his steer, 

To till the fallow land. 
Yet deem not in his thoughtful eye 
Did aught of dastard terror lie ; 

More dreadful far his ire, 
Than theirs, who, scorning danger's name, 
In eager mood to battle came. 
Their valour like light straw on flame, 

A fierce but fading fire. 

IV. 

Not so the Borderer : — bred to war, 
He knew the battle's din afar, 

And joy'd to hear it swell. 
His peaceful day was slothful ease ; 
Nor harp, nor pipe, his ear could please, 

Like the loud slogan yell. 
On active steed, with lance and blade, 
The light-arm'd pricker plied his trade, — 

Let nobles fight for fame ; 
Let vassals follow where they lead, 
Burghers, to guard their townships bleed, 

But war's the Borderer's game. 
Their gain, their glory, their delight, 
To sleep the day, maraud the night, 

O'er mountain, moss, and moor ; 
Joyful to fight they took their way, 
Scarce caring who might win the day, 

Their booty was secure. 
These, as Lord Marmion's train pass'd by, 
Look'd on at first with careless eye, 



Canto V. the court. 1 57 

Nor marveird aught, well taught to know 
The form and force of English how. 
But when they saw the Lord array'd 
In splendid arms, and rich brocade, 
Each Borderer to his kinsman said, — 

" Hist, Ringan ! seest thou there ! 
Canst guess the road they'll homeward ride ? — 
O ! could we but on Border side, 
By Eusedale glen, or Liddell's tide, 

Beset a prize so fair ! 
That fangless Lion, too, their guide, 
Might chance to lose his glistering hide ; x 
Brown Maudlin, of that doublet pied, 

Could make a kirtle rare. ,, 

V. 

Next, Marmion mark'd the Celtic race, 
Of different language, form, and face, 

A various race of man ; 
Just then the Chiefs their tribes array "d, 
And wild and garish semblance made 
The chequer'd trews, and belted plaid, 
And varying notes their war-pipes bray'd, 

To every varying clan ; 
Wild through their red or sable hair 
Look'd out their eyes with savage stare, 2 

i [MS. — "Hist, Ringan! seest thou theie! 

Canst guess what homeward road they take — 
By Eusedale glen, or Yetholm lake? 
! could we but by bush or brake 

Beset a prize so fair ! 
The fangless Lion, too, his guide, 
Might chance to lose his glittering hide.""| 

2 [MS.*— " Wild from their red and swarthy hair 

Look'd through their eyes with savage stare. !: ] 



108 marmion. Gkate l'. 

On Marmion as he pass'd ; 
Their legs above the knee were bare : 
Their frame was sinewy, short, and spare, 

And harden'd to the blast ; 
Of taller race, the chiefs they own 
Were by the eagle's plumage known. 
The hunted red-deer's undress'd hide 
Their hairy buskins well supplied ; 
The graceful bonnet deck'd their head : 
Back from their shoulders hung the plaid - 9 
A broadsword of unwieldy length, 
A dagger proved for edge and strength, 

A studded targe they wore, 
And quivers, bows, and shafts, — but, O ! 
Short was the shaft, and weak the bow, 

To that which England bore. 
The Isles-men carried at their backs 
The ancient Danish battle-axe. 
They raised a wild and wondering cry, 
As with his guide rode Marmion by. 
Loud were their clamouring tongues, as when 
The clanging sea-fowl leave the fen, 
And, with their cries discordant mix'd, 
Grumbled and yell'd the pipes betwixt 

VI. 

Thus through the Scottish camp they pass'd, 
And reach 1 d the City gate at last, 
Where all around, a wakeful guard, 
Arm'd burghers kept their watch and ward. 
Well had they cause of jealous fear, 
When lay encamp'd, in field so near, 
The Borderer and the Mountaineer. 



Canto V. the court. 160 

As through the bustling streets they go, 

All was alive with martial show : 

At every turn, with dinning clang, 

The armourer's anvil clash 'd and rang ; 

Or toil'd the swarthy smith to wheel 

The bar that arms the charger's heel ; 

Or axe, or falchion, to the side 

Of jarring grindstone was applied. 

Page, groom, and squire, with hurrying pace. 

Through street, and lane, and market-place, 

Bore lance, or casque, or sword ; 
"While burghers, with important face, 

Described each new-come lord, 
Discuss'd his lineage, told his name, 
His following, 1 and his warlike fame. 
The Lion led to lodging meet, 
"Which high o , erlook , d the crowded street ; 

There must the Baron rest, 
Till past the hour of vesper tide, 
And then to Holy-Rood must ride, — 

Such was the King's behest. 
Meanwhile the Lion's care assigns 
A banquet rich, and costly wines, 

To Marmion and his train \ % 

1 Following — Feudal retainers. — [This word, by the way, has 
been, since the Author of Marmion used it, and thought it called 
for explanation, completely adopted into English, and especially 
into Parliamentary parlance. — Ed."] 

2 In all transactions of great or petty importance, and among 
whomsoever taking place, it would seem that a present of wine was 
a uniform and indispensable preliminary. It was not to Sir John 
Falstaff alone that such an introductory preface was necessary^ 
however well judged and acceptable on the part of Mr. Brook ; for 
Sir Ralph Sadler, while on an embassy to Scotland in 1539-40, 
mentions, with complacency, " the same night came Rothesay (the 
herald so called) to me again, and brought me wine from the King, 
both white and red." — Clifford's Edition, p. 39. 



170 marmion. Canto P". 

And when the appointed hour succeeds, 
The Baron dons his peaceful weeds, 
And following Lindesay as he leads, 
The palace-halls they gain. 

VII. 

Old Holy-Rood rung merrily, 
That night, with wassell, mirth, and glee : 
King James within her princely bower 
Feasted the Chiefs of Scotland's power, 
Summon'd to spend the parting hour ; 
For he had charged, that his array 
Should southward march by break of day. 
Well loved that splendid monarch aye 

The banquet and the song, 
By day the tourney, and by night 
The merry dance, traced fast and light, 
The maskers quaint, the pageant bright, 

The revel loud and long. 
This feast outshone his banquets past ; 
It was his blithest, — and his last. 
The dazzling lamps, from gallery gay, 
Cast on the Court a dancing ray ; 
Here to the harp did minstrels sing ; 
There ladies touched a softer string ; 
With long-ear'd cap, and motley vest, 
The licensed fool retaiPd his jest ; 
His magic tricks the juggler plied ; 
At dice and draughts the gallants vied ; 
While some, in close recess, apart, 
Courted the ladies of their heart, 

Nor courted them in vain ; 
For often, in the parting hour, 
Victorious Love asserts his power 



Canto V. the court. 171 

O'er coldness and disdain ; 
And flinty is her heart, can view 
To battle march a lover true — 
Can hear, perchance, his last adieu, 

Nor own her share of pain. 

VIII. 

Through this mix'd crowd of glee and game, 
The King to greet Lord Marmion came, 

While, reverent, all made room. 
An easy task it was, I trow, 
King James's manly form to know, 
Although, his courtesy to show, 
He dofTd, to Marmion bending low, 

His broider'd cap and plume. 
For royal was his garb and mien, 

His cloak, of crimson velvet piled, 

Trimm'd with the fur of martin wild ; 
His vest of changeful satin sheen, 

The dazzled eye beguiled ; 
His gorgeous collar hung adown, 
Wrought with the badge of Scotland^ crown, 1 
The thistle brave, of old renown : 
His trusty blade, Toledo right, 2 
Descended from a baldric bright ; 
White were his buskins, on the heel 
His spurs inlaid of gold and steel ; 

1 [MS. — " Bearing the badge of Scotland's crown."] 

2 [MS.—" His trusty blade, Toledo right, 

Descended from a baldric bright, 

And dangled at his knee : 
White were his buskins ; from their heel 
His spurs inlaid > - , , 
His fretted spurs / of § old and steel 

Were jingling merrily."] 



172 marmion. Canto T. 

His bonnet, all of crimson fair, 

"Was button'd with a ruby rare : 

And Marmion deem'd he ne'er had seen 

A prince of such a noble mien. 

IX. 

The Monarch's form was middle size ; 
For feat of strength, or exercise, 

Shaped in proportion fair ; 
And hazel was his eagle eye, 
And auburn of the darkest dye, 

His short curl'd beard and hair. 
Light was his footstep in the dance, 
And firm his stirrup in the lists ; 
And, oh ! he had that merry glance, 

That seldom lady's heart resists. 
Lightly from fair to fair he flew, 
And loved to plead, lament, and sue ; — 
Suit lightly won, and short-lived pain, 
For monarchs seldom sigh in vain. 

I said he joy'd in banquet bower ; 
But, 'mid his mirth, 'twas often strange, 
How suddenly his cheer would change, 

His look o'ercast and lower, 
If, in a sudden turn, he felt 
The pressure of his iron belt, 
That bound his breast in penance pain, 
In memory of his father slain. 1 
Even so 'twas strange how, evermore, 
Soon as the passing pang was o'er 
Forward he rush'd, with double glee, 
Into the stream of revelry : 

1 See Appendix, Note 2 U . 



Canto V. THE COURT. 173 

Thus, dim-seen object of affright 
Startles the courser in his flight, 
And half he halts, half springs aside ; 
But feels the quickening spur applied, 
And, straining on the tighten'd rein, 
Scours doubly swift o'er hill and plain. 

X, 

1 er James's heart, the courtiers say, 
Sir Hugh the Heron's wife held sway : l 

To Scotland's Court she came, 
To be a hostage for her lord, 
Who Cessford's gallant heart had gored, 
And with the King to make accord, 

Had sent his lovely dame, 
Nor to that lady free alone 
Did the gay King allegiance own ; 

For the fair Queen of France 
Sent him a turquois ring and glove, 
And charged him, as her knight and love, 

For her to break a lance ; 
And strike three strokes with Scottish brand, 2 
And march three miles on Southron land, 
And bid the banners of his band 

In English breezes dance. 

1 See Appendix, Note 2 X. 
2 " Also the Queen of France wrote a love-letter to the King 
of Scotland, calling him her loye, showing him that she had suf- 
fered much rebuke in France for the defending of his honour. 
She believed surely that he would recompense her again with some 
of his kingly support in her necessity ; that is to say, that he would 
raise her an army, and come three foot of ground on English 
ground, for her sake. To that effect she sent him a ring off her 
finger, with fourteen thousand French crowns to pay his expenses." 
Pitscottie, p. 110. — A turquois ring; probably this fatal gift is, 
with James's sword and dagger, preserved in the College of Heralds, 
Jjondon. 



J 74 MARM10N. Canto V. 

And thus, for France's Queen he drest 

His manly limbs in mailed vest ; 

And thus admitted English fair 

His inmost counsels still to share ; 

And thus, for both, he madly plann'd 

The ruin of himself and land ! 
And yet, the sooth to tell, 

Nor England's fair, nor France's Queen, 1 

Were worth one pearl-drop, bright and sheen, 
From Margaret's eyes that fell, — 
His own Queen Margaret, who, in Lithgow's bower, 
All lonely sat, and wept the weary hour. 

XI. 

The Queen sits lone in Lithgow pile, 

And weeps the weary day, 
The war against her native soil, 
Her Monarch's risk in battle broil : — 
And in gay Holy-rood, the while, 
Dame Heron rises with a smile 

Upon the harp to play. 
Fair was her rounded arm, as o'er 

The strings her fingers flew ; 
And as she touch 'd and tuned them all, 
Ever her bosom's rise and fall 

Was plainer given to view ; 
For, all for heat, was laid aside 
Her wimple, and her hood untied. 2 



1 [MS. — " Nor France's Queen, nor England's fair, 

Were worth one pearl-drop, passing rare, 
From Margaret's eyes that fell."" 

2 [The MS. has only— 

" For, all for heat, was laid aside 
Her whimpled hood and gorget's pride : 



Canto V. the court. 175 

And first she pitched her voice to sing. 
Then glanced her dark eye on the King, 
And then around the silent ring ; 
And laugh 'd, and blush'd, and oft did say, 
Her pretty oath, by Yea, and Nay, 
She could not, would not, durst not play ! 
At length, upon the harp, with glee, 
Mingled with arch simplicity, 
A soft, yet lively, air she rung, 
While thus the wily lady sung : — 

XII. 

LOCHINVAR. 1 

&a&2 $g*ran'£ Jbmig. 

O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, 
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; 
And save his good broadsword, he weapons had none, 
He rode all unarnVd, and he rode all alone. 
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. 

He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone, 

He swam the Eske river where ford there was none ; 

But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, 

The bride had consented, the gallant came late : 

For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, 

Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 



And on the righted harp -with glee, 

Mingled with arch simplicity, 

A soft, yet lively air she rang, 

While thus her voice attendant sang."] 
1 The ballad of Lochinvar is in a very slight degree founded on 
a ballad called " Katharine Janfarie," which may be found in the 
" Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," [vol. ii.] 



176 marmion. Canto V. 

So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall, 

Among bride Vmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all : 

Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword. 

(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) 

" O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, 

Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ?" — 

" I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied ; — 
Love swells like the Sol way, but ebbs like its tide — l 
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, 
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. 
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, 
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." 

The bride kiss'd the goblet : the knight took it up, 
He quaff 'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup. 
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh, 
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. 
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar, — 
" Now tread we a measure !" said young Lochinvar. 

So stately his form, and so lovely her face, 
That never a hall such a galliard did grace ; 
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, 
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and 

plume ; 
And the bride-maidens whisper 'd, " 'Twere better by far 
To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.' 1 

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, 
When they reach \1 the hall-door, and the charger stood 
near; 

i [See the novel of Redgauntlet, for a detailed picture of some 
of the extraordinary phenomena of the spring-tides in the Solwaj 

Frith.] 



Canto V. THE COLTIT. 177 

So light to the croupe the fair lady he 3wung, 
So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! 
" She is won ! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur ; 
They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young 
Lochinvar. 

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby 

clan : 
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they 

ran: 
There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, 
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. 
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, 
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ? 

XIII. 

The Monarch o'er the siren hung, 
And beat the measure as she sung ; 
And, pressing closer, and more near, 
He whisper'd praises in her ear. 
In loud applause the courtiers vied * 
And ladies wink'd, and spoke aside. 

The witching dame to Marmion threw 
A glance, where seem'd to reign 

The pride that claims applauses due, 

And of her royal conquest too, 
A real or feign 'd disdain : 
Familiar was the look, and told, 
Marmion and she were friends of old. 
The King observed their meeting eyes, 
With something like displeased surprise - x 
For monarchs ill can rivals brook, 
Even in a word, or smile, or look, 

M 



178 marmion. Canto l\ 

Straight took he forth the parchment broad, 
Which Marmion 's high commission show'd : 
" Our Borders sack'd by many a raid, 
Our peaceful liege-men robbM," he said ; 
" On day of truce our Warden slain, 
Stout Barton kill'd, his vassals ta'en — 
Unworthy were we here to reign, 
Should these for vengeance cry in vain ; 
Our full defiance, hate, and scorn, 
Our herald has to Henry borne.'" 

XIV. 

He paused, and led where Douglas stood, 
And with stern eye the pageant view'd : 
I mean that Douglas, sixth of yore, 
Who coronet of Angus bore, 
And, when his blood and heart were high, 1 
Did the third James in camp defy, 
And all his minions led to die 

On Lauder's dreary flat : 
Princes and favourites long grew tame, 
And trembled at the homely name 

Of Archibald Bell-the-Cat ; 2 
The same who left the dusky vale 
Of Hermitage in Liddisdale, 

Its dungeons, and its towers, 
Where BothwelPs turrets brave the air, 
And Bothwell bank is blooming fair, 

To fix his princely bowers. 



1 [MS.— " And, when his blood and heart were high, 

King James's minions led to die, 
On Lauder's dreary flat."! 

2 [MS.— BelMhe* Cat, see Appendix, Note 2 V.] 



Canto V. the court. 179 

Though now, in age, he had laid down 
His armour for the peaceful gown, 

And for a staff his brand, 
Yet often would flash forth the fire, 
That could, in youth, a monarch's ire 

And minion's pride withstand ; 
And even that day, at council board, 

Unapt to soothe his sovereign's mood^ 

Against the war had Angus stood, 
And chafed his royal Lord. 1 

XV. 

His giant-form, like ruin'd tower, 
Though fall'n its muscles' brawny vaunt, 
Huge-boned, and tall, and grim, and gaunt, 

Seem'd o'er the gaudy scene to lower : 
His locks and beard in silver grew ; 
His eyebrows kept their sable hue. 
Near Douglas when the Monarch stood, 
His bitter speech he thus pursued : — 
" Lord Marmion, since these letters say 
That in the North you needs must stay, 

While slightest hopes of peace remain, 
Uncourteous speech it were, and stern, 
To say — Return to Lindisfarne, 

Until my herald come again 

i Angus was an old man when the war against England was re- 
solved upon. He earnestly spoke against that measure from its 
commencement ; and, on the eve of the battle of Flodden, remon- 
strated so freely upon the impolicy of fighting, that the King said 
to him, with scom and indignation, " if he was afraid, he might go 
home." The Earl hurst into tears at this insupportable insult, and 
retired accordingly, leaving his sons, George, Master of Angus, and 
Sir William of Glenbervie, to command his followers. They were 
both slain in the battle, with two hundred gentlemen of the name 
of Douglas. The aged Earl, broken-hearted at the calamities of his 
house and his country, retired into a religious house, where he died 
abort t a year after the field of Flodden. 



180 marmion. Canto F. 

Then rest you on Tantallon Hold ; 1 
Your host shall be the Douglas bold, — 
A chief unlike his sires of old. 
He wears their motto on his blade, 2 
Their blazon o'er his towers display 'd ; 
Yet loves his sovereign to oppose, 
More than to face his country's foes. 
And, I bethink me, by St. Stephen, 

But e'en this morn to me was given 3 
A prize, the first fruits of the war, 
Ta'en by a galley from Dunbar, 

A bevy of the maids of Heaven. 
Under your guard, these holy maids 
Shall safe return to cloister shades, 
And, while they at Tantallon stay, 
Requiem for Cochran's soul may say." 
And, with the slaughtered favourite's name, 
Across the Monarch's brow there came 
A cloud of ire, remorse and shame. 

XVI. 

In answer nought could Angus speak ; 
His proud heart swell'd wellnigh to break : 
He turn'd aside, and down his cheek 

A burning tear there stole. 
His hand the Monarch sudden took, 
That sight his kind heart could not brook : 

Now, by the Bruce's soul, 4 
Angus, my hasty speech forgive ! 
For sure as doth his spirit live, 

1 [See Appendix, Note 2 Z.] 

2 [See Appendix, Note 3 A.] 

z [MS. — " But yester morn was hither driven."] 
■* £The two next lines are not in the original MS.] 



Canto V. the court. 181 

As he said of the Douglas old, 

I well may say of you, — 
That never King did subject hold, 
In speech more free, in war more bold, 

More tender and more true : 1 
Forgive me, Douglas, once again. " — 
And while the King his hand did strain, 
The old man's tears fell down like rain. 
To seize the moment Marmion tried, 
And whisper'd to the King aside : 
" O ! let such tears unwonted plead 
For respite short from dubious deed ! 
A child will weep a bramble's smart, 
A maid to see her sparrow part. 2 
A stripling for a woman's heart : 
But woe awaits a country, when 
She sees the tears of bearded men. 
Then, oh ! what omen, dark and high, 
When Douglas wets his manly eye !" 

XVII. 

Displeased was James, that stranger view'd 

And tamper'd with his changing mood. 

" Laugh those that can, weep those that may," 

Thus did the fiery Monarch say, 

" Southward I march by break of day : 

And if within Tantallon strong, 

The good Lord Marmion tarries long, 

Perchance our meeting next may fall 

At Tamworth, in his castle-hall. 1 ' — 

1 " O, Dowglas ! Dowglas ! 
Tendir and trew." 

Tte Herniate. 
3 [MS. — " A maid to see her love depart."] 



182 MARMION. Canto V. 

The haughty Marmion felt the taunt, 

And answered, grave, the royal vaunt : 

" Much honour'd were my humble home, 

If in its hall King James should come ; 

But Nottingham has archers good, 

And Yorkshire men are stern of mood •, 

Northumbrian prickers wild and rude. 

On Derby Hills the paths are steep ; 

In Ouse and Tyne the fords are deep ; 

And many a banner will be torn, 

And many a knight to earth be borne, 

And many a sheaf of arrows spent, 

Ere Scotland's King shall cross the Trent : 

Yet pause, brave Prince, while yet you may !" — 

The Monarch lightly turn'd away, 

And to his nobles loud did call, — 

" Lords, to the dance, — a hall ! a hall !" 1 

Himself his cloak and sword flung by, 

And led Dame Heron gallantly •, 

And minstrels, at the royal order, 

Rung out — " Blue Bonnets o'er the Border." 

XVIII. 

Leave me these revels now, to tell 
What to Saint Hilda's maids befell, 
Whose galley, as they sail'd again 
To Whitby, by a Scot was ta'en. 
Now at Dun-Edin did they bide, 
Till James should of their fate decide ; 

And soon, by his command, 
Were gently summon'd to prepare 
To journey under Marmion's care, 
As escort honour'd, safe, and fair, 

l The ancient cry to make room for a dance, or pageant. 



Canto V. the court, 183 

Again to English land. 
The Abbess told her chaplet o'er, 
Nor knew which Saint she should implore ; 
For, when she thought of Constance, sore 

She fear'd Lord Marmion's mood. 
And judge what Clara must have felt ! 
The sword that hung in Marmion's belt, 

Had drunk De Wilton's blood. 
Unwittingly, King James had given, 

As guard to Whitby's shades, 
The man most dreaded under heaven 

By these defenceless maids : 
Yet what petition could avail, 
Or who would listen to the tale 
Of woman, prisoner, and nun, 
Mid bustle of a war begun ? 
They deem'd it hopeless to avoid 
The convoy of their dangerous guide. 

XIX. 

Their lodging, so the King assign'd, 
To Marmion's, as their guardian, join'd ; 
And thus it fell, that, passing nigh, 
The Palmer caught the Abbess' eye, 

Who warn'd him by a scroll, 
She had a secret to reveal, 
That much concern'd the Church's weal, 

And health of sinner's soul ; 
And, with deep charge of secrecy, 

She named a place to meet, 
Within an open balcony, 
That hung from drizzy pitch, and high, 

Above the stately street ; 
To which, as common to each home, 
At night they might in secret come. 



184 marmion. Canto V. 

XX. 

At night, in secret, there they came, 
The Palmer and the holy dame. 
The moon among the clouds rose high, 
And all the city hum was by. 
Upon the street, where late before 
Did din of war and warriors roar, 

You might have heard a pebble fall, 
A beetle hum, a cricket sing, 
An owlet flap his boding wing 

On Giles's steeple tall. 
The antique buildings, climbing high, 
Whose Gothic frontlets sought the sky, 

Were here wrapt deep in shade ; 
There on their brows the moon-beam broke, 
Through the faint wreaths of silvery smoke, 

And on the casements playM. 

And other light was none to see, 
Save torches gliding far, 

Before some chieftain of degree, 

Who left the royal revelry 
To bowne him for the war 

A solemn scene the Abbess chose ; 

A solemn hour, her secret to disclose. 

XXI. 

" O, holy Palmer !" she began,. — 
" For sure he must be sainted man, 
Whose blessed feet have trode the ground 
Where the Redeemer's tomb is found, — 
For his dear Church's sake, my tale 
Attend, nor deem of light avail. 

Though I must speak of worldly love 

How vain to those who wed above ! — 



Canto. V. the court. 1 8S 

De Wilton and Lord Marmion woo'd 
Clare de Clare, of Gloster's blood ; 
(Idle it were of Whitby's dame, 
To say of that same blood I came ;) 
And once, when jealous rage was high, 
Lord Marmion said despiteously, 
Wilton was traitor in his heart, 
And had made league with Martin Swart, 1 
When he came here on SimnePs part ; 
And only cowardice did restrain 
His rebel aid on Stokefield's plain, — 
And down he threw his glove : — the thing 
Was tried, as wont, before the King ; 
Where frankly did De Wilton own, 
That Swart in Guelders he had known ; 
And that between them then there went 
Some scroll of courteous compliment. 
For this he to his castle sent ; 
But when his messenger return'd, 
Judge how De Wilton's fury burn'd ! 
For in his packet there were laid 
Letters that claim'd disloyal aid, 
And proved King Henry's cause betray M. 
His fame, thus blighted, in the field 

He strove to clear, by spear and shield ; 

To clear his fame in vain he strove, 
For wondrous are His ways above ! 



i A German general, who commanded the auxiliaries sent by 
the Duchess of Burgundy with Lambert Simnel. He was defeated 
and killed at Stokefield. The name of this German general is pre- 
served by that of the field of battle, which is called, after him, 
Swart-moor. — There were songs about him long current in Eng- 
land.— See Dissertation prefixed to Ritson's Ancient Songs, 17JS, 
p. Ixi. 



186 marmion. Canto V. 

Perchance some form was unobserved ; 
Perchance in prayer, or faith, he swerved ; l 
Else how could guiltless champion quail, 
Or how the blessed ordeal fail ? 

XXII. 

" His squire, who now De Wilton saw 
A3 recreant doom'd to suffer law, 

Repentant, own'd in vain, 
That, while he had the scrolls in care, 
A stranger maiden, passing fair, 
Had drench'd him with a beverage rare ; 

His words no faith could gain. 
With Clare alone he credence won, 
Who, rather than wed Marmion, 
Did to Saint Hilda's shrine repair, 
To give our house her livings fair, 
And die a vestal vot'ress there. 
The impulse from the earth was given, 
But bent her to the paths of heaven. 
A purer heart, a lovelier maid, 
Ne'er shelter'd her in Whitby's shade, 
No, not since Saxon Edelfled ; 

Only one trace of earthly strain, 
That for her lover's loss 

She cherishes a sorrow vain, 
And murmurs at the cross. — 

And then her heritage \ — it goes 
Along the banks of Tame ; 

Deep fields of grain the reaper mows, 

In meadows rich the heifer lows, 

The falconer and huntsman knows 
Its woodlands for the game, 
i See Appendix, Note 3 B. 



Canto V. the court. 187 

Shame were it to Saint Hilda dear, 
And I, her humble vot'ress here, 

Should do a deadly sin, 
Her temple spoil'd before mine eyes, 
If this false Marmion such a prize 

By my consent should win ; 
Yet hath our boisterous monarch sworn, 
That Clare shall from our house be torn ; 
And grievous cause have I to fear, 
Such mandate doth Lord Marmion bear. 

XXIII. 

" Now, prisoner, helpless, and betray 'd 
To evil power, I claim thine aid, 

By every step that thou hast trod 
To holy shrine and grotto dim, 
By every martyr's tortured limb, 
By angel, saint, and seraphim, 

And by the Church of God ! 
For mark : — When Wilton was betray'd, 
And with his squire forged letters laid, 
She was, alas ! that sinful maid, 

By whom the deed was done, — 
O ! shame and horror to be said ! — 

She was a perjured nun ! 
No clerk in all the land, like her, 
Traced quaint and varying character. 
Perchance you may a marvel deem, 

That Marmion's paramour 
(For such vile thing she was) should scheme 

Her lover's nuptial hour ; 
But o'er him thus she hoped to gain, 
As privy to his honour's stain, 

Illimitable power : 



1$8 marmion. Canto V. 

For this she secretly retain 'd 

Each proof that might the plot reveal, 
Instructions with his hand and seal ; 

And thus Saint Hilda deign 'd, 
Through sinners' perfidy impure, 
Her house's glory to secure, 

And Clare's immortal weal. 

XXIV. 

" 'Twere long, and needless, here to tell, 
How to my hand these papers fell ; 

With me they must not stay. 
Saint Hilda keep her Abbess true ! 
Who knows what outrage lie might do, 

While journeying by the way ? 

O, blessed Saint, if e'er again 

I venturous leave thy calm domain, 

To travel or by land or main, 

Deep penance may I pay ! 

Now, saintly Palmer, mark my prayer : 

I give this packet to thy care, 

For thee to stop they will not dare ; 

And O ! with cautious speed, 
To Wolsey's hand the papers bring, 
That he may show them to the King : 

And, for thy well-earn'd meed, 
Thou holy man, at Whitby's shrine 
A weekly mass shall still be thine, 

While priests can sing and read. 

What ail'st thou ? — Speak !" — For as lie took 
The charge, a strong emotion shook 

His frame \ and, ere reply, 
They heard a faint, yet shrilly tone, 
Like distant clarion feebly blown, 



Canto V. THE COURT 18£ 

That on the breeze did die ; 
And loud the Abbess shriek 'd in fear, 
" Saint Withold, save us ! — What is here S 

Look at von City Cross ! 
See on its battled tower appear 
Phantoms, that scutcheons seem to rear, 

And blazon 'd banners toss !" — 

XXV. 
Dun-Eclin's Cross, a pillar'd stone, 1 
Rose on a turret octagon ; 

(But now is razed that monument, 
Whence royal edict rang, 

And voice of Scotland's law was sent 
In glorious trumpet- clang. 
O ! be his tomb as lead to lead, 
Upon its dull destroyer's head ! — 
A minstrel's malison 2 is said. 3 ) — 
Then on its battlements they saw 
A vision, passing Nature's law, 

Strange, wild, and dimly seen ; 
Figures that seenTd to rise and die, 
Gibber and sign, advance and fly, 
While nought confirm'd could ear or eye 

Discern of sound or mien. 



1 [MS. — ** Dun-Edin's Cross, a pillar'd stone, 

Rose on turret hexagon ; 

(Dust unto dust, lead unto lead, 

On its destroyer's drowsy \. , , 

Upon its base destroyer's / 

The Minstrel's malison is said.)"] 

2 i. e. Curse. 

2 See Appendix, Note 3 C. 



190 marmion. Canto V. 

Yet darkly did it seem, as there 
Heralds and Pursuivants prepare, 
With trumpet sound and blazon fair, 

A summons to proclaim ; 
But indistinct the pageant proud, 
As fancy forms of midnight cloud, 
When flings the moon upon her shroud 

A wavering tinge of flame ; 
It flits, expands, and shifts, till loud, 
From midmost of the spectre crowd, 

This awful summons came : — l 

XXVI. 

" Prince, prelate, potentate, and peer, 

Whose names I now shall call, 
Scottish, or foreigner, give ear ! 
Subjects of him who sent me here. 
At his tribunal to appear,. 

I summon one and all : 
I cite you by each deadly sin, 
That e'er hath soiPd your hearts within ; 
I cite you by each brutal lust, 
That e'er defiled your earthly dust, — 

By wrath, by pride, by fear, 2 
By each o'er-mastering passion's tone. 
By the dark grave, and dying groan ! 
When forty days are pass'd and gone, 7, 

1 cite you, at your Monarch's throne, 
To answer and appear. 1 ' 

i See Appendix, Note 3 D. 

2 [MS.—" By wrath, by fraud, by fear."] 

3 [MS. — " Ere twenty days are pass'd and gone, 

Before the mighty Monarch's throne, 
I cite you to appear. "1 



Canto V. THE COURT. I SI 

Then thunder'd forth a roll of names : — 
The first was thine, unhappy James ! 

Then all thy nobles came ; 
Crawford, Glencairn, Montrose, Argyle, 
Ross, Bothwell, Forbes, Lennox, Lyle,_ 
Why should I tell their separate style ? 

Each chief of birth and fame, 
Of Lowland, Highland, Border, Isle, 
Fore-doom'd to Flodden's carnage pile, 

"Was cited there by name *, 
And Marmion, Lord of Fontenaye, 
Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye ; 
De Wilton, erst of Aberley, 
The self-same thundering voice did say J 

But then another spoke : 
" Thy fatal summons I deny, 
And thine infernal Lord defy, 
Appealing me to Him on High, 

Who burst the sinner's yoke." 
At that dread accent, with a scream, 
Parted the pageant like a dream, 

The summoner was gone. 
Prone on her face the Abbess fell, 
And fast, and fast, her beads did tell ; 
Her nuns came, startled by the yell, 

And found her there alone. 
She mark'd not, at the scene aghast, 
What time, or how, the Palmer passM- 

XXVII. 

Shift we the scene.— The camp doth move, 
Dun-Edin's streets are empty now, 

* [MS. — " In thundering tone the voice did say."] 



152 marmion. Canto V, 

Save when, for weal of those the)' love, 

To pray the prayer, and vow the vow 
The tottering child, the anxious fair, 
The grey-hair'd sire, with pious care, 
To chapels and to shrines repair — 
Where is the Palmer now ? and where 
The Abbess, Marmion, and Clare ? — 
Bold Douglas ! to Tantallon fair 

They journey in thy charge : 
Lord Marmion rode on his right hand, 
The Palmer still was with the band ; 
Angus, like Lindesay, did command, 

That none should roam at large. 
But in that Palmer's alter'd mien 
A wondrous change might now be seen, 

Freely he spoke of war, 
Of marvels wrought by single hand, 
When lifted for a native land ; 
And still look'd high, as if he plann'd 

Some desperate deed afar. 
His courser would he feed and stroke, 
And, tucking up his sable frocke, 
Would first his mettle bold provoke, 

Then soothe or quell his pride. 
Old Hubert said, that never one 
He saw, except Lord Marmion, 

A steed so fairly ride. 

XXVIII. 

Some half-hour's march behind, there came, 

By Eustace govern'd fair, 
A troop escorting Hilda's Dame, 

With all her nuns, and Clare. 



*7anto V. the court. 193 

No audience had Lord Marmion sought ; 
Ever he fear'd to aggravate 
Clara de Clare's suspicious hate ; 

And safer 'twas, he thought, 

To wait till, from the nuns removed, 
The influence of kinsmen loved, 
And suit by Henry's self approved, 

Her slow consent had wrought. 

His was no flickering flame, that dies 

Unless when fann'd by looks and sighs, 

And lighted oft at lady's eyes ; 

He long'd to stretch his wide command 

O'er luckless Clara's ample land : 

Besides, when Wilton with him vied, 

Although the pang of humbled pride 

The place of jealousy supplied, 

Yet conquest, by that meanness won 

He almost loath'd to think upon, 

Led him, at times, to hate the cause, 

"Which made him burst through honour's laws. 

If e'er he lov'd, 'twas her alone, 

"Who died within that vault of stone. 

XXIX. 

And now, when close at hand they saw 
North Berwick's town, and lofty Law, 1 
Fitz-Eustace bade them pause a while, 
Before a venerable pile, 2 



1 [MS. — " North Berwick's town, and conic Law."] 
2 The convent alluded to is a foundation of Cistertian nuns, neai 
North Berwick, of which there are still some remains. It was 
^unded by Duncan, Earl of Fife, in 1216. 

.N 



1^4 MAR Y: 1 X . Ca nto 

Whose turrets view'd, afar, 
The lofty Bass, the Lambie Isle, 1 

The ocean's peace or war. 
At tolling of a bell, forth came 
The convent's venerable Dame, 
And pray'd Saint Hilda's Abbess rest 
With her, a loved and honour'd guest, 
Till Douglas should a bark prepare 
To waft her back to Whitby fair. 
Glad was the Abbess, you may guess, 
And thank 'd the Scottish Prioress ; 
And tedious were to tell, I ween, 
The courteous speech that pass'd between. 

O'erjoy'd the nuns their palfreys leave ; 
But when fair Clara did intend, 
Like them, from horseback to descend, 

Fits-Eustace said, — " I grieve, 
Fair lady, grieve e'en from my heart, 
Such gentle company to part ; — 

Think not discourtesy, 
But lords' commands must be obey'd ; 
And Marmion and the Douglas said, 

That you must wend with me. 
Lord Marmion hath a letter broad, 
Which to the Scottish Earl he show'd, 
Commanding, that, beneath his care, 
Without delay, you shall repair 
To your good kinsman. Lord Fitz-Clare." 

XXX. 

The startled Abbess loud exclaim'd ; 
But she, at whom the blow was aim'd, 

i [MS.—" The lofty Bass, the Lamb's green isle."] 



Canto V. the court. 195 

Grew pale as death, and cold as lead, — 
She deem'd she heard her death-doom read. 
" Cheer thee, my child ! " the Abbess said, 
" They dare not tear thee from my hand, 
To ride alone with armed band,'" — 

" Nay, holy mother, nay," 
Fitz-Eustace said, " the lovely Clare 
Will be in Lady Angus' care, 

In Scotland while we stay ; 
And, when we move, an easy ride 
Will bring us to the English side, 
Female attendance to provide 

Befitting Gloster's heir ; 
Nor thinks, nor dreams, my noble lord, 
By slightest look, or act, or word, 

To harass Lady Clare. 
Her faithful guardian he will be, 
Nor sue for slightest courtesy 

That e'en to stranger falls, 
Till he shall place her, safe and free, 

Within her kinsman's halls." 
He spoke, and blush'd with earnest grace ; 
His faith was painted on his face, 

And Clare '3 worst fear relieved. 
The Lady Abbess loud exclaim'd 
On Henry, and the Douglas blamed, 

Entreated, threaten'd, grieved ; 
To martyr, saint, and prophet pray'd, 
Against Lord Marmion inveigh 'd, 
And call'd the Prioress to aid, 
To curse with candle, bell, and book. 
Her head the grave Cistertian shook : 
" The Douglas, and the King," she said, 
" In their commands will be obey'd ; 



196 marmion. Canto Y. 

Grieve not, nor dream that harm can fall 
The maiden in Tantallon hall. ,, 

XXXI. 

The Abbess, seeing strife was vain, 
Assumed her -wonted state again, — 

For much of state she had, — 
Composed her veil, and raised her head, 
And — " Bid," in solemn voice she said, 

" Thy master, bold and bad, 
The records of his house turn o'er, 

And, when he shall there written see, 

That one of his own ancestry 

Drove the Monks forth of Coventry, 1 
Bid him his fate explore ! 

Prancing in pride of earthly trust, 

His charger hurl'd him to the dust, 

And, by a base plebeian thrust, 
He died his band before. 

God judge 'twixt Marmion and me ; 

He is a chief of high degree, 
And I a poor recluse ; 

Yet oft, in holy writ, we see 



i This relates to the catastrophe of a real Robert de Marmion, 
in the reign of King Stephen, whom William of Newbury describes 
with some attributes of my fictitious hero : Homo bcllicosus,ferocia, 
et astucia,fere nullo suo tempore impar." This Baron, having ex- 
pelled the Monks from the church of Coventry, was not long of 
experiencing the divine judgment, as the same monks, no doubt, 
termed his disaster. Having waged a feudal war with the Earl of 
Chester, Marmion's horse fell, as he charged in the van of his 
troop, against a body of the Earl's followers : the rider's thigh 
being broken by the fall, his head was cut off by a common foot- 
soldier, ere he could receive any succour. The whole story is told 
by William of Newbury. 



Canto V. the court. 197 

Even such weak minister as me 
May the oppressor bruise : 

For thus, inspired, did Judith slay 
The mighty in his sin, 

And Jael thus, and Deborah" 

Here hasty Blount broke in : 
" Fitz-Eustace, we must march our band ; 
St Anton" 1 fire thee ! wilt thou stand 
All day, with bonnet in thy hand, 

To hear the Lady preach ? 
By this good light ! if thus we stay, 
Lord Marmion, for our fond delay, 

Will sharper sermon teach. 
Come, d'on thy cap, and mount thy horse v 
The Dame must patience take perforce." — 

XXXII. 

" Submit we then to force," said Clare, 
" But let this barbarous lord despair 

His purposed aim to win ; 
Let him take living, land, and life ; 
But to be Marmion's wedded wife 

In me were deadly sin : 
And if it be the King's decree, 
That I must find no sanctuary, 
In that inviolable dome, 1 
Where even a homicide might come, 

And safely rest his head, 
Though at its open portals stood, 
Thirsting to pour forth blood for blood, 

The kinsmen of the dead ; 

3 [This line, necessary to the rhyme, is now, for the first time, 
restored from the MS. It must have been omitted by an over- 
sight in the original printing.— Ed. J 



198 MARM10N. Canto V. 

Yet one asylum is my own 

Against the dreaded hour ; 
A low, a silent, and a lone, 

Where kings have little power. 

One victim is before me there 

Mother, your blessing, and in prayer 
Remember your unhappy Clare !" 
Loud weeps the Abbess, and bestows 

Kind blessings many a one : 
Weeping and wailing loud arose, 
Round patient Clare, the clamorous woes 

Of every simple nun. 
His eyes the gentle Eustace dried, 
And scarce rude Blount the sight could bide. 

Then took the squire her rein, 
And gently led away her steed, 
And, by each courteous word and deed, 

To cheer her strove in vain. 

XXXIII. 

But scant three miles the band had rode, 

When o'er a height they pass'd, 
And, sudden, close before them show'd 

His towers, Tantallon vast ; 
Broad, massive, high, and stretching far, 
And held impregnable in war. 
On a projecting rock they rose, 
And round three sides the ocean flows, 
The fourth did battled walls enclose, 

And double mound and fosse. 1 
By narrow drawbridge, outworks strong, 
Through studded gates, an entrance long, 

To the main court they cross. 

i [See Appendix, Note 3 E."] 



Canto V, the court. 199 

It was a wide and stately square : 
Around were lodgings, fit and fair, 

And towers of various form, 
Which on the court projected far, 
And broke its lines quadrangular. 
Here was square keep, there turret high, 
Or pinnacle that sought the sky, 
Whence oft the Warder could descry 

The gathering ocean-storm. 

XXXIV. 

Here did they rest The princely care 

Of Douglas, why should I declare, 
Or say they met reception fair ? 

Or why the tidings say, 
Which, varying, to Tantallon came, 
By hurrying posts, or fleeter fame, 

With every varying day ? 
And, first, they heard King James had won 

Etall, and Wark, and Ford ; and then, 

That Norham Castle strong was ta'en, 
At that sore marvell'd Marmion •,— 
And Douglas hoped his Monarch's hand 
Would soon subdue Northumberland : 

But whisper'd news there came, 
That, while his host inactive lay, 
And melted by degrees away, 
King James was dallying off the day 

With Heron's wily dame 

Such acts to chronicles I yield ; 

Go seek them there, and see : 
Mine is a tale of Flodden Field, 

And not a history 



200 marmion. Canto V. 

At length they heard the Scottish host 
On that high ridge had made their post, 

Which frowns o'er Millfield Plain ; 
And that brave Surrey many a band 
Had gather'd in the Southern land, 
And march'd into Northumberland, 

And camp at Wooler ta'en. 
Marmion, like charger in the stall, 
That hears, without, the trumpet-call, 

Began to chafe, and swear : — 
" A sorry thing to hide my head 
In castle, like a fearful maid, 

When such a field is near ! 
Needs must I see this battle-day : 
Death to my fame if such a fray 
Were fought, and Marmion away ! 
The Douglas, too, I wot not why, 
Hath 'bated of his courtesy : 
No longer in his halls I'll stay." 
Then bade his band they should array 
For march against the dawning day. 



[ 201 ] 



MARMION. 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH, 



RICHARD HEBER, Esq. 



Mertoun-Ho use, 1 Christmas. 

Heap on more wood ! — the wind is chill ; 
But let it whistle as it will, 
Well keep our Christmas merry still. 
Each age has deem'd the new-born year 
The fittest time for festal cheer : 
Even, heathen yet, the savage Dane 
At lol more deep the mead did drain ; 2 
High on the beach his galleys drew, 
And feasted all his pirate crew ; 
Then in his low and pine-built hall, 
Where shields and axes deck'd the wall, 

i [Mertoun-House, the seat of Hugh Scott, Esq. of Harden, is 
beautifully situated on the Tweed, about two miles below Dry- 
burgh Abbey.] 

^£See Appendix, Note 3 F.] 



202 



They gorged upon the half-dress'd steer ; 

Caroused in seas of sable beer ; 

While round, in brutal jest, were thrown 

The half-gnaw'd rib, and marrow-bone, 

Or listen'd all, in grim delight, 

While scalds yell'd out the joys of fight. 

Then forth, in frenzy, would they hie, 

While wildly-loose their red locks fly, 

And dancing round the blazing pile, 

They make such barbarous mirth the while, 

As best might to the mind recal 

The boisterous joys of Odin's hall. 

And well our Christian sires of old 
Loved when the year its course had roll'd, 
And brought blithe Christmas back again, 
With all his hospitable train. 
Domestic and religious rite 
Gave honour to the holy night ; 
On Christmas eve the bells were rung ; 
On Christmas eve the mass was sung : 
That only night in all the year, 
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear. 1 
The damsel donn'd her kirtle sheen ; 
The hall was dress'd with holly green ; 
Forth to the wood did merry-men go, 
To gather in the misletoe. 
Then open'd wide the Baron's hall 
To vassal, tenant, serf, and all ; 
Power laid his rod of rule aside, 
And Ceremony doff'd his pride. 
The heir, with roses in his shoes, 
That night might village partner choose ; 
i [See Appendix, Note 3 G.] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 203 

The Xord, under ogating, share 
The vulgar game of " post and pair. n 
All hail'd, with uncontrolled delight, 
And general voice, the happy night, 
That to the cottage, as the crown. 
Brought tidings of salvation down. 

The fire, with well-dried logs supplied, 
Went roaring up the chimney wide ; 
The huge hall-table's oaken face, 
Scrubb'd till it shone, the day to grace, 
Bore then upon its massive board 
No mark to part the squire and lord. 
Then was brought in the lusty biawn, 
By old blue-coated serving-man ; 
Then the grim boar's head frown 'd on high, 
Crested with bays and rosemary. 
Well can the green-garVd ranger tell, 
How, when, and where, the monster fell ; 
What dogs before his death he tore, 
And all the baiting of the boar. 1 
The wassel round, in good brown bowls, 
Garnish 'd with ribbons, blithely trowls. 
There the huge sirloin reek'd •, hard by 
Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie ; 
Nor fail'd old Scotland to produce, 
At such high tide, her savoury goose. 
Then came the merry maskers in, 
And carols roar'd with blithesome din ; 

i [MS.— " And all the hunting of the boar. 
Then round the merry wassel bowl, 
Garnish'd -with ribbons, blithe did trowl, 
And the large sirloin steam'd on high, 
Plum-porridge, hare, and savoury pie."] 



204 MARMION. 

If immelodious was the song, 

It was a hearty note and strong. 

Who lists may in their mumming see 

Traces of ancient mystery ; * 

"White shirts supplied the masquerade, 

And smutted cheeks the visors made ; 

But, O ! what maskers, richly dight, 

Can boast of bosoms half so light ! 

England was merry England, when 

Old Christmas brought his sports again. 

'Twas Christmas broach'd the mightiest ale ; 

*Twas Christmas told the merriest tale ; 

A Christmas gambol oft could cheer 

The poor man's heart through half the year. 

Still linger, in our northern clime, 
Some remnants of the good old time ; 
And still, within our valleys here, 
We hold the kindred title dear, 
Even when, perchance, its far-fetchM claim 
To Southron ears sounds empty name ; 
For course of blood, our proverbs deem, 
Is warmer than the mountain- stream, 2 
And thus, my Christmas still I hold, 
Where my great-grandsire came of old, 
With amber beard, and flaxen hair, 3 
And reverend apostolic air — 
The feast and holy-tide to share, 
And mix sobriety with wine, 
And honest mirth with thoughts divine. 

i See Appendix, Note 3 H. 

2 " Blood is warmer than water," — a proveTb meant to vindi- 
cate our family predilections. 

3 See Appendix, Note 3 I. 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 205 

Small thought was his, in after time 
E'er to be hitch M into a rhyme. 
The simple sire could only boast, 
That he was loyal to his cost ; 
The banish'd race of kings revered, 
And lost his land, — but kept his beard. 

In these dear halls, where welcome kind 1 
Is with fair liberty combined ; 
Where cordial friendship gives the hand, 
And flies constraint the magic wand 
Of the fair dame that rules the land. 2 
Little we heed the tempest drear, 
While music, mirth, and social cheer, 
Speed on their wings the passing year. 
And Mertoun's halls are fair e'en now, 
When not a leaf is on the bough. 
Tweed loves them well, and turns again, 
As loath to leave the sweet domain, 
And holds his mirror to her face, 
And clips her with a close embrace : — 
Gladly as he, we seek the dome, 
And as reluctant turn us home. 

How just that, at this time of glee, 
My thoughts should, Heber, turn to thee ! 
For many a merry hour we've known, 
And heard the chimes of midnight's tone. 3 



1 [MS. — " In these fair halls, with merry cheer, 
Is bid farewell the dying year."] 

2 [See Introduction to the Minstrelsy, vol. iv. p. 59.] 

3 [The MS. adds:— 

K As toasts old Shallow to Sir John."] 



206 MARMION. 

Cease, then, my friend ! a moment cease, 
And leave these classic tomes in peace ! 
Of Roman and of Grecian lore, 
Sure mortal brain can hold no more. 
These ancients, as Noll Bluff might say, 
Were pretty fellows in their day -," 1 
But time and tide o'er all prevail — 
On Christmas eve a Christmas tale — 
Of wonder and of war — " Profane ! 
What ! leave the lofty Latian strain, 
Her stately prose, her verse's charms, 
To hear the clash of rusty arms : 
In Fairy Land or Limbo lost, 
To jostle conjurer and ghost, 
Goblin and witch ! — Nay, Heber dear, 
Before you touch my charter, hear ; 
Though Ley den aids, alas ! no more, 
My cause with many-languaged lore, 2 
This may I say : — in realms of death 
Ulysses meets Alcides' wraith ; 

1 " Hannibal was a pretty fellow, sir — a very pretty fellow in 
his day."— Old Bachelor. 

2 [MS. — " With all his many-languaged lore." 
John Leyden, M.D., who had been of great service to Sir Walter 
Scott in the preparation of the Border Minstrelsy, sailed for India 
in April, 1803, and died at Java in August, 1811, before completing 
his 36th year. 

'* Scenes sung by him who sings no more! 
His brief and bright career is o'er, 
And mute his tuneful strains ; 
Quench'd is his lamp of varied lore, 
That loved the light of song to pour : 
A distant and a deadly shore 

Has Leyden's cold remains." 

Lord of the Isles, Canto IV. vol. x. 
See a notice of his life in the Author's Miscellaneous Prose 
Works, vol. iv.] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 207 

jEneas, upon Thracia's shore, 
The ghost of murder'd Polydore ; 
For omens, we in Livy cross, 
At every turn, locutus Bos, 
As grave and duly speaks that ox, 
As if he told the price of stocks ; 
Or held, in Rome republican, 
The place of Common-councilman. 

All nations have their omens drear, 
Their legends wild of woe and fear. 
To Cambria look — the peasant see, 
Bethink him of Glendowerdy, 
And shun " the spirit's Blasted Tree." 1 
The Highlander, whose red claymore 
The battle turn'd on Maida's shore, 
Will, on a Friday morn, look pale, 
If ask'd to tell a fairy tale : 2 
He fears the vengeful Elfin King, 
Who leaves that day his grassy ring ; 
Invisible to human ken, 
He walks among the sons of men. 

Did'st e'er, dear Heber, pass along 3 
Beneath the towers of Franchemont, 
Which, like an eagle's nest in air, 
Hang o'er the stream and hamlet fair ? 4 
Deep in their vaults, the peasants say, 
A mighty treasure, buried lay, 

1 [See Appendix, Note 3K.] 

2 [See Appendix, Note 3 L.] 

3 [This paragraph appears interpolated on the blank page of 
the MS.] 

■* [MS. — " Which, high in air, like eagle's nest, 

Hang from the dizzy mountain's breast."] 



203 



Amass'd through rapine and through wrong 

By the last Lord of Franchemont. 1 

The iron chest is bolted hard, 

A Huntsman sits, its constant guard ; 

Around his neck his horn is hung, 

His hanger in his belt is slung ; 

Before his feet his blood-hounds lie : 

An 'twere not for his gloomy eye, 

Whose withering glance no heart can brook, 

As true a huntsman doth he look, 

As bugle e'er in brake did sound, 

Or ever hollow'd to a hound. 

To chase the fiend, and win the prize, 

In that same dungeon ever tries 

An aged Necromantic Priest ; 

It is an hundred years at least, 

Since 'twixt them first the strife begun, 

And neither yet has lost nor won. 

And oft the Conjurer's words will make 

The stubborn Demon groan and quake ; 

And oft the bands of iron break, 

Or bursts one lock, that still amain, 

Fast as 'tis open'd, shuts again. 

That magic strife within the tomb 

May last until the day of doom, 

Unless the Adept shall learn to tell 

The very word that clench'd the spell, 

When Franch'mont lock'd the treasure cell. 

An hundred years are pass'd and gone, 

And scarce three letters has he won. 

Such general superstition may 
Excuse for old Pitscottie say ; 

J [See Appendix, Note 3M.J 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 209 

Whose gossip history has given 
My song the messenger from Heaven, 1 
That warn'd, in Lithgow, Scotland's King, 
Nor less the infernal summoning ; 2 
May pass the Monk of Durham's tale, 
Whose Demon fought -in Gothic mail ; 
May pardon plead for Fordun grave, 
Who told of Gifford's Goblin-Cave. 
But why such instances to you, 
Who, in an instant, can renew 
Your treasured hoards of various lore, 
And furnish twenty thousand more ? 
Hoards, not like theirs whose volumes rest 
Like treasures in the Franch'mont chest, 
While gripple owners still refuse 
To others what they cannot use ; 
Give them the priest's whole century, 
They shall not spell you letters three ; 
Their pleasure in the books the same 
The magpie takes an pilfer'd gem. 
Thy volumes, open as thy heart, 
Delight, amusement, science, art, 
To every ear and eye impart ; 
Yet who, of all who thus employ them, 
Can like the owner's self enjoy them ? — 
But, hark ! I hear the distant drum ! 

The day of Flodden Field is come 

Adieu, dear Heber ! life and health, 
And store of literary wealth. 

1 [See Appendix, Note 2M.] 

2 [The four lines which follow are not in the MS.] 





t 210 ] 



M ARM ION. 



CANTO SIXTH. 



m>z battle. 
I, 

While great events were on the gale, 
And each hour brought a varying tale, 
And the demeanour, changed and cold, 
Of Douglas, fretted Marmion bold. 
And, like the impatient steed of war, 
He snuff'd the battle from afar ; 
And hopes were none, that back again 
Herald should come from Terouenne, 
Where England's King in leaguer lay, 
Before decisive battle-day ; 
Whilst these things were, the mournful Clare 
Did in the Dame's devotions share : 
For the good Countess ceaseless prayM 
To Heaven and Saints, her sons to aid, 
And, with short interval, did pass 
From prayer to book, from book to mass, 



Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 211 

And all in high Baronial pride, — 
A life both dull and dignified ; — 
Yet as Lord Marmion nothing press'd 
Upon her intervals of rest, 
Dejected Clara well could bear 
The formal state, the lengthen'd prayer^ 
Though dearest, to her wounded heart 
The hour3 that she might spend apart. 

II. 

I said, Tantallon's dizzy steep 

Hung o'er the margin of the deep. 

Many a rude tower and rampart there 

Repeird the insult of the air, 

Which, when the tempest vex'd the sky, 

Half breeze, half spray, came whistling by. 

Above the rest, a turret square 

Did o'er its Gothic entrance bear, 

Of sculpture rude, a stony shield ; 

The Bloody Heart was in the Field, 

And in the chief three mullets stood, 

The cognizance of Douglas blood. 

The turret held a narrow stair, 1 

Which, mounted, gave you access where 

A parapet's embattled row 

Did seaward round the castle go. 

Sometimes in dizzy steps descending, 

Sometimes in narrow circuit bending, 

Sometimes in platform broad extending, 

Its varying circle did combine 

Bulwark, and bartisan, and line, 

And bastion, tower, and vantage-coign; 

A [MS. — " The tower contain'd a narrow stair, 
And gave an open access where."] 



2J2 marmiok. Canto VI. 

Above the booming ocean leant 

The far-projecting battlement ; 

The billows burst, in ceaseless flow, 

Upon the precipice below. 

Where'er Tantallon faced the land, 

Gate- works, and walls, were strongly mann'd ■ 

No need upon the sea-girt side ; 

The steepy rock, and frantic tide, 

Approach of human step denied ; 

And thus these lines, and ramparts rude, 

Were left in deepest solitude. 

III. 

And, for they were so lonely, Clare 
Would to these battlements repair, 
And muse upon her sorrows there, 

And list the sea-bird's cry ; 
Or slow, like noontide ghost, would glide 
Along the dark-grey bulwarks' side, 
And ever on the heaving tide 

Look down with weary eye. 
Oft did the cliff, and swelling main, 
Recall the thoughts of Whitby's fane,— 
A home she ne'er might see again ; 

For she had laid adown, 
So Douglas bade, the hood and veil, 
And frontlet of the cloister pale, 

And Benedictine gown : 
It were unseemly sight, he said, 
A novice out of convent shade — 
Now her bright locks, with sunny glow, 
Again adorn'd her brow of snow ; 
Her mantle rich, whose borders, round, 
A deep and fretted broidery bound, 
In golding foldings sought the ground ; 



Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 213 

Of holy ornament, alone 
Remain'd a cross with ruby stone ; 

And often did she look 
On that which in her hand she bore, 
"With velvet bound, and broider'd o'er, 

Her breviary book. 
In such a place, so lone, so grim, 
At dawning pale, or twilight dim, 

It fearful would have been 
To meet a form so richly dress'd, 1 
"With book in hand, and cross on breast, 

And such a woeful mien. 
Fitz-Eustace, loitering with his bow, 
To practice on the gull and crow, 
Saw her, at distance, gliding slow, 

And did by Mary swear, — 
Some love-lorn Fay she might have been, 
Or, in Romance, some spell-bound Queen ; 
For ne'er, in work-day world, was seen 

A form so witching fair. 2 

IV. 

Once walking thus, at evening tide, 
It chanced a gliding sail she spied, 
And, sighing, thought: — " The Abbess, there, 
Perchance, does to her home repair ; 
Her peaceful rule, where Duty, free, 
"Walks hand in hand with Charity ; 
Where oft Devotion's tranced glow 
Can such a glimpse of heaven bestow, 



i [MS. — " To meet a form so fair, and dress'd 

In antique robes, with cross on breast."] 
2 [MS.—" A form so sad and fair."] 



214 MARMION. Canto VI. 

That the enraptured sisters see 

High vision, and deep mystery ; 

The very form of Hilda fair, 

Hovering upon the sunny air, 

And smiling on her votaries' prayer. 1 

O ! wherefore, to my duller eye, 

Did still the Saint her form deny ! 

Was it, that, sear'd by sinful scorn, 

My heart could neither melt nor burn ? 

Or lie my warm affections low, 

With him, that taught them first to glow ? 

Yet, gentle Abbess, well I knew, 

To pay thy kindness grateful due, 

And well could brook the mild command, 

That ruled thy simple maiden band. 

How different now ! condemn M to bide 

My doom from this dark tyrant's pride. — 

But Marmion has to learn, ere long, 

That constant mind, and hate of wrong, 

Descended to a feeble girl, 

From Red De Clare, stout Gloster's Earl : 

Of such a stem, a sapling weak, 2 

He ne'er shall bend, although he break. 

V. 

" But see ! — what makes this armour here ?" — 
For in her path there lay 

Targe, corslet, helm ; — she view'd them near 

" The breast-plate pierced ! — Ay, much I fear, 

J [See Appendix, Note 3 N.] 

2 [MS.—" Of such a stem, or branch, | g() g j weak, 
He ne'er shall bend me, though he break."] 



Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 215 

Weak fence wert thou 'gainst foeman's spear, 
That hath made fatal entrance here, 

As these dark blood-gouts say 

Thus Wilton ! — Oh ! not corslet's ward, 
Not truth, as diamond pure and hard, 
Could be thy manly bosom's guard, 

On yon disastrous day !" — 
She raised her eyes in mournful mood,— 
Wilton himself before her stood ! 
It might have seem'd his passing ghost, 
For every youthful grace was lost ; 
And joy unwonted, and surprise, 

Gave their strange wildness to his eyes 

Expect not, noble dames and lords, 
That I can tell such scene in words : 
What skilful limner e'er would choose 
To paint the rainbow's varying hues, 
Unless to mortal it were given 
To dip his brush in dyes of heaven ? 
Far less can my weak line declare 

Each changing passion's shade ; 
Brightening to rapture from despair, 
Sorrow, surprise, and pity there, 
And joy, with her angelic air, 

And hope, that paints the future fair, 
Their varying hues display "d : 
Each o'er its rival's ground extending, 
Alternate conquering, shifting, blending, 
Till all, fatigued, the conflict yield, 
And mighty Love retains the field. 
Shortly I tell what then he said, 
By many a tender word delay'd, 1 

■ .QMS.— M By many a short caress delay'd.*^ 



216 marmion. Canto VL 

And modest blush, and bursting sigh, 
And question kind, and fond reply : — 

VI. 

Bt mutant W*tat}). 

" Forget we that disastrous day, 
When senseless in the lists I lay. 

Thence dragg'd, — but how I cannot know, 
For sense and recollection fled, — 

I found me on a pallet low, 

Within my ancient beadsman's shed. 1 

Austin, — rem ember 'st thou, my Clare, 
How thou didst blush, when the old man, 
When first our infant love began, 

Said we would make a matchless pair ? — 
Menials, and friends, and kinsmen fled 
From the degraded traitor's bed, 2 — 
He only held my burning head, 
And tended me for many a day, 
While wound3 and fever held their sway. 
But far more needful was his care, 
When sense return'd to wake despair ; 

For I did tear the closing wound, 

And dash me frantic on the ground, 
If e'er I heard the name of Clare. 
At length, to calmer reason brought, 
Much by his kind attendance wrought, 

With him I left my native strand, 
And, in a Palmer's weeds array "d, 
My hated name and form to shade, 

I journey 'd many a land ; 

1 [MS. — " Where an old beadsman held my head."] 

2 [MS.^-' ( The banish'd traitor's i l ^^J 5 } hed. " 



Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 217 

No more a lord of rank and birth, 
But mingled with the dregs of earth. 

Oft Austin for my reason fear'd, 
When I would sit, and deeply brood 
On dark revenge, and deeds of blood, 

Or wild mad schemes uprear'd. 
My friend at length fell sick, and said, 

God would remove him soon : 
And, while upon his dying bed, 

He begg'd of me a boon — 
If e'er my deadliest enemy 
Beneath my biand should conquer'd lie, 
Even then my mercy should awake, 
And spare his life for Austin's sake. 

VII. 

" Still restless as a second Cain, 

To Scotland next my route was ta'en, 

Full well the paths I knew, 
Fame of my fate made various sound, 
That death in pilgrimage I found, 
That I had perish 'd of my wound, — 

None cared which tale was true : 
And living eye could never guess 
De Wilton in his Palmer's dress ; 
For now that sable slough is shed, 
And trimm'd my shaggy beard and head, 
I scarcely know me in the glass. 
A chance most wondrous did provide, 
That I should be that Baron's guide— 

I will not name his name ! — 
Vengeance to God alone belongs ; 
But, when I think on all my wrongs, 

My blood is liquid flame ! 



218 marmion. Canto VI. 

And ne'er the time shall I forget, 
When, in a Scottish hostel set, 

Dark looks we did exchange : 
What were his thoughts I cannot tell ; 
But in my bosom muster'd Hell 

Its plans of dark revenge. 

VIII. 

" A word of vulgar augury, 

That broke from me, I scarce knew why, 

Brought on a village tale ; 
Which wrought upon his moody sprite, 
And sent him armed forth by night. 

I borrow'd steed and mail, 
And weapons, from his sleeping band ; 

And, passing from a postern door, 
We met, and 'counter'd, hand to hand,— 

He fell on Gifford-moor. 
For the death-stroke my brand I drew, 
(O then my helmed head he knew, 

The Palmer's cowl was gone,) 
Then had three inches of my blade 
The heavy debt of vengeance paid, — 
My hand the thought of Austin staid ; l 

I left him there alone. — 
O good old man ! even from the grave, 
Thy spirit could thy master save : 
If I had slain my foeman, ne'er 
Had Whitby's Abbess, in her fear, 
Given to my hand this packet dear, 

1 [MS.— " But thought of Austin staid my hand, 
And in the sheath I plunged the brand ; 

I left him there alone. — 
O good old man ! even from the grave, 
Thy spirit could De Wilton save."] 



Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 2] 9 

Of power to clear my injured fame, 
And vindicate De Wilton's name — 
Perchance you heard the Abbess tell 
Of the strange pageantry of Hell, 

That broke our secret speech — 
It rose from the infernal shade, 
Or featly was some juggle play'd, 

A tale of peace to teach. 
Appeal to Heaven I judged was best, 
When my name came among the rest. 

IX. 

" Now here, within Tantallon Hold, 

To Douglas late my tale I told, 

To whom my house was known of old. 

Won by my proofs, his falchion bright 

This eve anew shall dub me knight. 

These were the arms that once did turn 

The tide of fight on Otterburne, 

And Harry Hotspur forced to yield, 

When the Dead Douglas won the field. 1 

These Angus gave — his armourer's care, 

Ere morn, shall every breach repair ; 

For nought, he said, was in his halls, 

But ancient armour on the walls, 

And aged chargers in the stalls, 

And women, priests, and grey-haird men ; 

The rest were all in Twisel glen. 2 

And now I watch my armour here, 

By law of arms, till midnight's near ; 

1 [See the ballad of Otterbourne, in the Border Minstrelsy, vol. l. 
p. 345.] 

2 Where James encamped before taking post on Flodden. [The 
MS. has— 

" The rest were all on Flodden plain."] 



220 marmion. Canto VI. 

Then, once again a belted knight, 
Seek Surrey's camp with dawn of light. 

X. 

" There soon again we meet, my Clare ! 
This Baron means to guide thee there : 
Douglas reveres his King's command, 
Else would he take thee from his band. 
And there thy kinsman, Surrey, too, 
Will give De Wilton justice due. 
Now meeter far for martial broil, 
Firmer my limbs, and strung by toil, 

Once more " " O Wilton ! must we then 

Risk new-found happiness again, 

Trust fate of arms once more ? 
And is there not an humble glen, 

Where we, content and poor, 
Might build a cottage in the shade, 
A shepherd thou, and I to aid 

Thy task on dale and moor ? 

That reddening brow ! — too well I know, 
Not even thy Clare can peace bestow, 

While falsehood stains thy name : 
Go then to fight ! Clare bids thee go ! 
Clare can a warrior's feelings know, 

And weep a warrior's shame ; 
Can Red Earl Gilbert's spirit feel, 
Buckle the spurs upon thy heel, 
And belt thee with thy brand of steel, 

And send thee forth to fame ! " 

XI. 

That night, upon the rocks and bay, 
The midnight moon-beam slumbering lay, 



Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 221 

And pour'd its silver light, and pure, 
Through loop-hole, and through embrazure, 

Upon Tantallon tower and hall ; 
But chief where arched windows wide 
Illuminate the chapel's pride, 

The sober glances fall. 
Much was there need ; though seam'd with scars, 
Two veterans of the Douglas' wars, 

Though two grey priests were there, 
And each a blazing torch held high, 
You could not by their blaze descry 1 

The chapel's carving fair. 
Amid that dim and smoky light, 
Chequering the silvery moon-shine bright, 

A bishop by the altar stood, 2 

A noble lord of Douglas blood, 
With mitre sheen, and rocquet white. 
Yet show'd his meek and thoughtful eye 
But little pride of prelacy ; 
More pleased that, in a barbarous age, 
He gave rude Scotland Virgil's page, 
Than that beneath his rule he held 
The bishopric of fair Dunkeld. 
Beside him ancient Angus stood, 
Doff 'd his furr'd gown, and sable hood : 
O'er his huge form and visage pale, 
He wore a cap and shirt of mail ; 
And lean'd his large and wrinkled hand 
Upon the huge and sweeping brand 

i [MS. — " You might not by their shine descry."] 
2 The well-known Gawain Douglas, Bishop of Dunkeld, son of 
Archibald Bell-the-Cat, Earl of Angus. He was author of a Scot- 
tish metrical version of the iEneid, and of many other poetical 
pieces of great merit. He had not at this period attained the 
mitre. 



222 marmiox. Canto VI. 

Which wont of yore, in battle fray, 
His foeman's limbs to shred away, 
As wood-knife lops the sapling spray. 1 
He seem'd as, from the tombs around 

Rising at judgment-day, 
Some giant Douglas may be found 
In all his old array ; 
So pale his face, so huge his limb. 
So old his arms, his look so grim. 

XII. 

Then at the altar Wilton kneels, 
And Clare the spurs bound on his heel3 ; 
And think what next he must have felt, 
At buckling of the falchion belt ! 

And judge how Clara changed her hue, 
While fastening to her lover's side 
A friend, which, though in danger tried, 

He once had found untrue ! 
Then Douglas struck him with his blade : 
6t Saint Michael and Saint Andrew aid, 

I dub thee knight. 



1 Angus had strength and personal activity corresponding to hia 
courage. Spens of Kilspindie, a favourite of James IV., having 
spoken of him lightly, the Earl met him while hawking, and, com- 
pelling him to single combat, at one "blow cut asunder his thigh- 
bone, and killed him on the spot. But ere he could obtain James's 
pardon for this slaughter, Angus was obliged to yield his castle of 
Hermitage, in exchange for that of Both well, which was some dimi- 
nution to the family greatness. The sword with which he struck 
so remarkable a blow, was presented by his descendant, James 
Earl of Morton, afterwards Regent of Scotland, to Lord Lindesay 
of the Byres, when he defied Bothwell to single combat on Car- 
berry-hill. See Introduction to the Minstrelsy of the Scottish 
Border. 



Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 223 

Arise, Sir Ralph, De Wilton's heir! 
For Bang, for Church, for Lady fair, 

See that thou fight." — 
And Bishop Gawain, as he rose, 
Said — " Wilton ! grieve not for thy woes* 

Disgrace, and trouble ; 
For He, who honour best bestows, 

May give thee double." — 
De Wilton sobb'd, for sob he must — 
" Where'er I meet a Douglas, trust 

That Douglas is my brother ! " — 
" Nay, nay," old Angus said, " not so ^ 
To Surrey's camp thou now must go, 

Thy wrong3 no longer smother. 
I have two sons in yonder field ; 
And, if thou meet'st them under shield, 
Upon them bravely — do thy worst ; 
And foul fall him that blenches first ! " 

XXII. • 

Not far advanced was morning day, 
When Marmion did his troop array 

To Surrey's camp to ride ; 
He had safe conduct for his band,. 
Beneath the royal seal and hand,. 

And Douglas gave a guide : 
The ancient Earl, with stately grace. 
Would Clara on her palfrey place, 
And whisper'd in an under tone, 
" Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown." — 
The train from out the castle drew, 1 
But Marmion stopp'd to bid adieu : — 

* [MS.— " The train the portal arch pass'd through."] 



224 marmion. Canto VI. 

" Though something I might plain, 1 ' he said, 
" Of cold respect to stranger guest, 
Sent hither by your King's behest, 

While in Tantallon's towers I staid ; 
Part we in friendship from your land, 
And, noble Earl, receive my hand." — 
But Douglas round him drew his cloak, 
Folded his arms, and thus he Spoke : — 
" My manors, halls, and bowers, shall still 
Be open, at my Sovereign's will, 
To each one whom he lists, howe'er 
Unmeet to be the owner's peer. 1 
My castles are my King's alone, 
From turret to foundation-stone — 
The hand of Douglas is his own ; 
And never shall in friendly grasp 
The hand of such as Marmion clasp." 

XIV. 

Burn'd Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, 
And shook his very frame for ire, 

And — " This to me ! " he said, — 
" An 'twere not for thy hoary beard, 
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared 

To cleave the Douglas' head ! 
And, first, I tell thee, haughty Peer, 
He, who does England's message here, 
Although the meanest in her state, 
May well, proud Angus, be thy mate : 
And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, 

Even in thy pitch of pride, 
Here in thy hold, thy vassals near, 

1 [MS.—" Unmeet they be to harbour here."] 



Canto VI THE BATTLE. 2i 

(Nay, never look upon your lord, 
And lay your hands upon your sword,) 

I tell thee, thou'rt defied ! 
And if thou said'st, I am not peer 
To any lord in Scotland here, 
Lowland or Highland, far or near, 

Lord Angus, thou hast lied ! " — * 
On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage 
O'ercame the ashen hue of age : 
Fierce he broke forth, — " And darest thou then 
To beard the lion in his den, 

The Douglas in his hall ? 
And hopest thou hence unscathed to go ? — 
No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no ! 
Up drawbridge, grooms — what, Warder, ho ! 

Let the portcullis fall." — 2 
Lord Marmion turn'd,— well was his need, 
And dash'd the rowels in his steed, 
Like arrow through the archway sprung, 
The ponderous grate behind him rung : 
To pass there was such scanty room, 
The bars, descending, razed his plume. 

XV. 
The steed along the drawbridge flies, 
Just as it trembled on the rise ; 
Nor lighter does the swallow skim 
Along the smooth lake's level brim : 
And when Lord Marmion reach'd his band, 
He halts, and turns with clenched hand, 
And shout of loud defiance pours, 
And shook his gauntlet at the towers. 

i [MS.—" False Douglas, thou hast lied."] 
2 See Appendix, Note 3 O. 
P 



226 marmion. Canto VI. 

" Horse ! horse ! " the Douglas cried, " and chase ! M 
But soon he rein'd his fury'3 pace : 
" A royal messenger he came, 

Though most unworthy of the name 

A letter forged ! Saint Jude to speed, 
Did ever knight so foul a deed ! ] 
At first in heart it liked me ill, 
When the King praised his clerkly skill. 
Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine 2 
Save Gawain, ne'er could pen a line : 
So swore I, and I swear it still, 

Let my boy-bishop fret his fill 

Saint Mary mend my fiery mood ! 
Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood, 
I thought to slay him where he stood. 
'Tis pity of him too," he cried : 
" Bold can he speak, and fairly ride, 
I warrant him a warrior tried.'" 
With this his mandate he recalls, 
And slowly seeks his castle halls. 



1 Lest the reader should partake of the Earl's astonishment, and 
consider the crime as inconsistent with the manners of the period, 
I have to remind him of the numerous forgeries (partly executed 
by a female assistant) devised by Robert of Artois, to forward his 
suit against the Countess Matilda; which, being detected, occa- 
sioned his flight into England, and proved the remote cause of 
Edward the Third's memorable wars in France. John Harding, 
also, was expressly hired by Edward IV. to forge such documents 
as might appear to establish the claim of fealty asserted over Scot- 
land by the English monarchs. 

2 [MS.—" Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine 
Could never pen a written line, 
So swear I, and I swear it still, 
Let brother Gawain fret his fill."] 



Canto VI. 1HE BATTLE. 227 

XVI. 

The day in Marmion's journey wore ; 
Yet, ere his passion's gust was o'er, 
They cross'd the heights of Stanrig-moor, 
His troop more closely there he scann'd, 
And miss'd the Palmer from the band.— 
" Palmer or not," young Blount did say, 
"He parted at the peep of day ; 
Good sooth, it was in strange array." — 
" In what array ?" said Marmion, quick. 
" My Lord, I ill can spell the trick ; 
But all night long, with cling and bang, 
Close to my couch did hammers clang ; 
At dawn the falling drawbridge rang, 
And from a loop-hole while I peep, 
Old Bell-the-Cat came from the Keep, 
Wrapp'd in a gown of sables fair, 
As fearful of the morning air ; 
Beneath, when that was blown aside, 
A rusty shirt of mail I spied, 
By Archibald won in bloody work, 
Against the Saracen and Turk : 
Last night it hung not in the hall ; 
I thought some marvel would befall. 
And next I saw them saddled lead 
Old Cheviot forth, the Earl's best steed ; 
A matchless horse, though something old, 
Prompt in his paces, cold and bold. 
I heard the Sheriff Sholto say, 
The Earl did much the Master 1 pray 
To use him on the battle-day ; 

i His eldest son, the Master of Angus, 



223 marmion. Canto VI. 

But he preferr'd" " Nay, Henry, cease ! 

Thou sworn horse-courser, hold thy peace 

Eustace, thou bear'st a brain — I pray, 
What did Blount see at break of day ?" 

XVII. 

" In brief, my lord, we both descried 
(For then I stood by Henry's side) 
The Palmer mount, and outwards ride, 

Upon the Earl's own favourite steed : 
All sheathed he was in armour bright, 
And much resembled that same knight, 
Subdued by you in Cotswold fight : 

Lord Angus wish'd him speed." — 
The instant that Fitz-Eustace spoke, 
A sudden light on Marmion broke ; — 
" Ah ! dastard fool, to reason lost !" 
He mutter'd ; " 'Twas not fay nor ghost 
I met upon the moonlight wold, 
But living man of earthly mould. — 

O dotage blind and gross ! 
Had I but fought as wont, one thrust 
Had laid De Wilton in the dust, 

My path no more to cross. — 
How stand we now ? — he told his tale 
To Douglas ; and with some avail ; 

'Twas therefore gloom'd his rugged brow 

Will Surrey dare to entertain, 

'Gainst Marmion, charge disproved and vain ? 

Small risk of that, I trow. 
Yet Clare's sharp questions must I shun ; 
Must separate Constance from the Nun — 
O, what a tangled web we weave, 
When first we practise to deceive ! 



Canto VI. THE BATTLE, 22 S 

A Falmer too ! — no wonder why 

I felt rebuked beneath his eye : 

I might have known there was but one, 

Whose look could quell Lord Marmion." 

XVIII. 

Stung with these thoughts, he urged to speed 
His troop, and reached, at eve, the Tweed, 
Where Lennel's convent 1 closed their march ; 
(There now is left but one frail arch, 

Yet mourn thou not its cells ; 
Our time a fair exchange has made ; 
Hard by, in hospitable shade, 

A reverend pilgrim dwells, 
Well worth the whole Bernardine brood, 
That e'er wore sandal, frock, or hood.) 
Yet did Saint Bernard's Abbot there 
Give Marmion entertainment fair, 
And lodging for his train and Clare. 
Next morn the Baron climb 'd the tower. 
To view afar the Scottish power, 

Encamp 'd on Flodden edge : 
The white pavilions made a show, 
Like remnants of the winter snow, 

Along the dusky ridge. 
Lord Marmion look'd — at length his eye 
Unusual movement might descry 

Amid the shifting lines : 



1 This was a Cistertian house of religion, now almost entirely 
demolished. Lennel House is cow the residence of my venerable 
friend, Patrick Brydone, Esquire, so well known in the literary 
world. ( 2 ) It is situated near Coldstream, almost opposite to Corn- 
hill, and consequently very near to Flodden Field. 

(*) First Edition.— Mr. Brydone has been many years dead. 1825. 



230 marmion. Canto VI. 

The Scottish host drawn out appears, 
For, flashing on the hedge of spears 

The eastern sunbeam shines. 
Their front now deepening, now extending ; 
Their flank inclining, wheeling, bending, 
Now drawing back, and now descending, 
The skilful Marmion well could know, 
They watch'd the motions of some foe, 
Who traversed on the plain below. 

XIX. 

Even so it was. From Flodden ridge 

The Scots beheld the English host 

Leave Barmore-wood, their evening post. 

And heedful watch'd them as they cross'd 
The Till by Twisel Bridge. 1 

High sight it is, and haughty, while 

They dive into the deep defile ; 

Beneath the cavenTd cliff they fall, 

Beneath the castle's airy wall. 
By rock, by oak, by hawthorn tree, 

Troop after troop are disappearing ; 

Troop after troop their banners rearing, 
Upon the eastern bank you see. 
Still pouring down the rocky den, 

Where flows the sullen Till, 
And rising from the dim-wood glen, 
Standards on standards, men on men, 

In slow succession still, 
And, sweeping o'er the Gothic arch, 
And pressing on, in ceaseless march, 

To gain the opposing hill. 

i [See Appendix, Note 3 P.] 



CantO VI. THE BATTLE. 231 

That morn, to many a trumpet clang 
Twisel ! thy rock's deep echo rang ; 
And many a chief of birth and rank, 
Saint Helen ! at thy fountain drank. 
Thy hawthorn glade, which now we see 
In spring-tide bloom so lavishly, 
Had then from many an axe its doom, 
To give the marching columns room. 

XX. 

And why stands Scotland idly now, 
Dark Flodden ! on thy airy brow, 
Since England gains the pass the while, 
And struggles through the deep defile ? 
What checks the fiery soul of James ? 
Why sits that champion of the dames 

Inactive on Ins steed, 
And sees, between him and his land, 
Between him and Tweed's southern strand, 

His host Lord Surrey lead ? 
What 'vails the vain knight-errant's brand ? 
— O, Douglas, for thy leading wand ! 

Fierce Randolph, for thy speed ! 
O for one hour of Wallace wight, 
Or well-skill'd Bruce, to rule the fight, 
And cry — " Saint Andrew and our right !" 
Another sight had seen that morn, 
From Fate's dark book a leaf been torn, 
And Flodden had been Bannockbourne ! — 
The precious hour has pass'd in vain, 
And England's host has gain'd the plain ; 
Wheeling their march, and circling still, 
Around the base of Flodden hill. 



232 marmion. Canto VI. 

XXI. 

Ere yet the bands met Marmion 's eye, 1 
Fitz-Eustace shouted loud and high, 
" Hark ! hark ! my lord, an English dram ! 
And see ascending squadrons come 

Between Tweed's river and the hill, 
Foot, horse, and cannon : — hap what hap, 
My basnet to a prentice cap, 

Lord Surrey's o'er the Till ! — 
Yet more ! yet more ! — how far array 'd 
They file from out the hawthorn shade, 

And sweep so gallant by ! 2 
With all their banners bravely spread, 

And all their armour flashing high, 
Saint George might waken from the dead, 

To see fair England's standards fly." — 
" Stint in thy prate," quoth Biount, " thou'dst best, 
And listen to our lord's behest." — 
With kindling brow Lord Marmion said, — 
" This instant be our band array'd ; 
The river must be quickly cross'd, 
That we may join Lord Surrey's host. 
If fight King James, — as well I trust, 
That fight he will, and fight he must, — 
The Lady Clare behind our lines 
Shall tarry, while the battle joins." 

XXII. 

Himself he swift on horseback threw, 
Scarce to the Abbot bade adieu ; 



i [MS.—" Ere first they met Lord Marmion's eye."] 

2 [MS.—." And all go sweeping by. "J 



Cmito VI. THE BATTLE. 2 

Far less would listen to his prayer, 
To leave behind the helpless Clare. 
Down to the Tweed his band he drew, 
And mutter'd as the flood they view, 
" The pheasant in the falcon's claw, 
He scarce will yield to please a daw : 
Lord Angus may the Abbot awe, 

So Clare shall bide with me." 
Then on that dangerous ford, and deep, 
Where to the Tweed Leafs eddies creep, 1 

He ventured desperately : 
And not a moment will he bide, 
Till squire, or groom, before him ride ; 
Headmost of all he stems the tide, 

And stems it gallantly. 
Eustace held Clare upon her horse, 

Old Hubert led her rein, 
Stoutly they braved the current's course, 
And, though far downward driven per force, 

The southern bank they gain ; 
Behind them straggling, came to shore, 

As best they might, the train : 
Each o'er his head his yew-bow bore, 

A caution not in vain ; 
Deep need that day that every string, 
By wet unharm'd, should sharply ring. 
A moment then Lord Marmion staid, 
And breath'd his steed, his men array'd, 

Then forward moved his band. 
Until, Lord Surrey's rear-guard won, 
He halted by a Cross of Stone, 
That, on a hillock standing lone, 

Did all the field command, 
i [MS,— £< Where to the Tweed Leafs tributes creep "J 



.234 -MARMiox. Canto VI. 

XXIII. 
Hence might they see the full array 
Of either host, for deadly fray -, 1 
Their marshall'd lines stretched east and west, 2 

And fronted north and south, 
And distant salutation pass'd 

From the loud cannon mouth ; 
Not in the close successive rattle, 
That breathes the voice of modern battle, 

But slow and far between 

The hillock gain'd, Lord Marmion staid : 
" Here, by this Cross,' 1 be gently said, 

" You well may view the scene. 
Here shalt thou tarry, lovely Clare : 
O ! think of Marmion in thy prayer ! — 
Thou wilt not ? — well, — no less my care 
Shall, watchful, for thy weal prepare — 
You, Blount and Eustace, are her guard, 

With ten picked archers of my train •, 
With England if the day go hard, 

To Berwick speed amain 

But if we conquer, cruel maid, 
My spoils shall at your feet be laid, 

When here we meet again." 
He waited not for answer there, 
And would not mark the maid's despair, 3 

Nor heed the discontented look 
From either squire ; but spurr'd amain, 
And, dashing through the battle-plain, 

His way to Surrey took. 

i [See Appendix, Note 3 Q.] 

2 [MS. — " Their lines were form'd, stretch'd east and vu 

3 [MS.— "Nor mark'd the lady's deep despair, 

Nor heeded discontented look."] 



Canto VL the battle. 233 

XXIV. 

« The good Lord Marmion, by my life 1 

Welcome to danger's hour ! — 
Short greeting serves in time of strife : — 

Thus have I ranged my power : 
Myself will rule this central host, 

Stout Stanley fronts their right, 
My sons command the vanward post, 

With Brian Tunstall, stainless knight •/ 

Lord Dacre, with his horsemen light, 

Shall be in rear- ward of the fight, 
And succour those that need it most 

Now, gallant Marmion, well I know,. 

Would gladly to the vanguard go ; 
Edmund, the Admiral, Tunstall there, 
With thee their charge will blithely share ; 
There fight thine own retainers too, 
Beneath De Burg, thy steward true." — % 
" Thanks, noble Surrey !" Marmion said ? 
Nor farther greeting there he paid \ 
But, parting like a thunderbolt, 
First in the vanguard made a halt, 

Where such a shout there rose 
Of " Marmion ! Marmion !" that the cry. 
Up Flodden mountain shrilling high, 

Startled the Scottish foes. 

* Sir Brian Tunstall, called in the romantic language of the fSms$* 
Tunstall the Undented, was one of the few Englishmen of rank 
slain at Flodden. He figures in the ancient English poem, to which; 
I may safely refer my readers ; as an edition, with full explanatory 
notes, has been published by my friend, Mr. Henry Weber. Tun*- 
stall, perhaps, derived his epithet of undefiled from his white ar- 
mour and banner, the latter bearing a white cock, about to crow-^ 
as well as from his unstained loyalty and knightly faith. His plaegss 
of residence was Thurland Castle. 

2 [MS.—" Beneath thy seneschal, Fitz-Hugh."J ; 



236 MARMION. Canto VI. 

XXV. 

Blount and Fitz-Eustace rested, still 
With Lady Clare upon the hill ; 
On which, (for far the day was spent,) 
The western sunbeams now were bent. 
The cry they heard, its meaning knew, 
Could plain their distant comrades view : 
Sadly to Blount did Eustace say, 
" Unworthy office here to stay ! 

No hope of gilded spurs to-day 

But see ! look up — on Flodden bent 
The Scottish foe has fired his tent.'* 

And sudden, as he spoke, 
From the sharp ridges of the hill, 1 
All downward to the banks of Till, 

Was wreathed in sable smoke. 
Volumed and fast, and rolling far, 
The cloud enveloped Scotland's war, 

As down the hill they broke ; 
Nor martial shout, nor minstrel tone, 
Announced their march ; their tread alone, 
At times one warning trumpet blown, 

At times a stifled hum, 
Told England, from his mountain-throne 

King James did rushing come 

Scarce could they hear, or see their foes, 

Until at weapon-point they close. — 2 
They close, in clouds of smoke and dust, 
With sword-sway, and with lance's thrust •, 

1 ["Of all the poetical battles which have been fought, from 
the days of Homer to those of Mr. Southey, there is none, in our 
opinion, at all comparable, for interest and animation,— for breadth 
of drawing and magnificence of effect, — with this of Mr. Scott's." — 
Jeffrey.] 

2 [This couplet is not in the MS. ] 



Canto Vl. THE BATTLE. 237 

And such a yell was there, 
Of sudden and portentous birth, 
As if men fought upon the earth, 

And fiends in upper air; 1 
O life and death were in the shout, 
Recoil and rally, charge and rout, 

And triumph and despair. 
Long look'd the anxious squires ; their eye 
Could in the darkness nought descry. 

XXVI. 

At length the freshening western blast 
Aside the shroud of battle cast ; 
And first, the ridge of mingled spears 2 
Above the brightening cloud appears ; 
And in the smoke the pennons flew, 
As in the storm the white sea-mew. 
Then mark'd they, dashing broad and far, 
The broken billows of the war, 
And plumed crests of chieftains brave, 
Floating like foam upon the wave ; 

But nought distinct they see : 
Wide raged the battle on the plain ; 
Spears shook, and falchions flash'd amain •, 
Fell England's arrow-flight like rain ; 
Crests rose, and stoop'd, and rose again, 

Wild and disorderly. 
Amid the scene of tumult, high 
They saw Lord Marmion's falcon fly : 
And stainless TunstalPs banner white, 
And Edmund Howard's lion bright, 
Still bear them bravely in the fight ; 

1 [ The next three lines are not in the MS.] 

2- LMS.— " And first the broken ridge of spears."] 



238 marmiox. Canto VI. 

Although against them come, 
Of Gallant Gordons many a one, 
And many a stubborn Badenoch-man, 1 
And many a rugged Border clan, 

With Huntley, and with Home. 

XXVII. 

Far on the left, unseen the while, 
Stanley broke Lennox and Argyle ; 
Though there the western mountaineer 2 
Rush'd with bare bosom on the spear, 
And flung the feeble targe aside, 
And with both hands the broadsword plied. 
'Twas vain : — But Fortune, on the right, 
With fickle smile, cheer'd Scotland's fight. 
Then fell that spotless banner white, 3 

The Howard's lion fell ; 
Yet still Lord Marmion's falcon flew 
With wavering flight, while fiercer grew 

Around the battle-yell. 
The Border slogan rent the sky ! 
A Home ! a Gordon ! was the cry : 

Loud were the clanging blows ; 
Advanced, — forced back, — now low, now high, 

The pennon sunk and rose ; 
As bends the bark's mast in the gale, 
When rent are rigging, shrouds, and sail, 

It waver 'd 'mid the foes. 
No longer Blount the view could bear : 
" By Heaven, and all its saints ! I swear 

1 [In all former editions, Highlandman. Badenoch is the cor- 
rection of the author's interleaved copy of the edition of 1830.] 

2 [MS. — " Though there the dauntless mountaineer."] 

3 [MS. — " Fell stainless Tunstall's banner white, 

Sir Edmund's lion fell."] 



Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 239 

I will not see it lost ! 
Fitz- Eustace, you with Lady Clare 1 
May bid your beads, and patter prayer, — 

I gallop to the host." 
And to the fray he rode amain, 
Follow'd by all the archer train. 
The fiery youth, with desperate charge, 
Made, for a space, an opening large, — 

The rescued banner rose 

But darkly closed the war around, 
Like pine-tree, rooted from the ground, 2 

It sunk among the foes. 
Then Eustace mounted too : — yet staid, 
As loath to leave the helpless maid, 

When, fast as shaft can fly, 
Blood-shot his eyes, his nostrils spread, 
The loose rein dangling from his head, 
Housing and saddle bloody red, 

Lord Marmion's steed rusrTd by ; 
And Eustace, maddening at the sight, 

A look and sign to Clara cast, 

To mark he would return in haste, 3 
Then plunged into the fight. 

XXVIII. 

Ask me not what the maiden feels, 
Left in that dreadful hour alone : 

Perchance her reason stoops, or reels ; 
Perchance a courage, not her own, 
Braces her mind to desperate tone. — 

1 [MS.—" Fitz-Eustace, you and Lady Clare 

May for its safety join in prayer."] 

2 [MS. — "Like pine up-rooted from the ground."] 

3 [MS. — " And cried he would return in haste."] 



240 marmion. Canto VI. 

The scatter'd van of England wheels ; — 1 

She only said, as loud in air 

The tumult roar'd, " Is Wilton there ?" — 

They fly, or, madden'd by despair, 

Fight but to die 5 — " Is Wilton there ?" 
With that, straight up the hill there rode 

Two horsemen drench'd with gore, 
And in their arms, a helpless load, 

A wounded knight they bore. 
His hand still strain'd the broken brand ; 
His arms were smear'd with blood and sand : 
Dragg'd from among the horses' feet, 
With dinted shield, and helmet beat, 
The falcon-crest and plumage gone, 
Can that be haughty Marmion ! . . . 2 
Young Blount his armour did unlace, 
And, gazing on his ghastly face, 

Said — " By Saint George, he's gone ! 
That spear-wound has our master sped, 
And see the deep cut on his head ! 

Good-night to Marmion." 
" Unnurtured Blount ! thy brawling cease : 
He opes his eyes," said Eustace ; " peace ! ** 

XXIX. 

When, doff 'd his casque, he felt free air, 3 
Around 'gan Marmion wildly stare : — 
64 Where's Harry Blount ? Fitz-Eustace where ? 
Linger ye here, ye hearts of hare ! 

1 [MS —" RepU + l se d ,\ the band j of England wheels."] 

The scatter d wing ) 

2 [MS.—" Can that be {{J™^} Lord Marmion!"] 
s [MS. — "And when he felt the fresher air. "J 



Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 243 

Redeem my pennon, — charge again ! 
Cry — 4 Marmion to the rescue ! ' — Vain ! 
La3t of my race, on battle-plain 
That shout shall ne'er be heard again !- — 
Yet my last thought is England's — fly, 1 
To Dacre bear my signet-ring : 

Tell him his squadrons up to bring 

Fitz-Eustace, to Lord Surrey hie ; 
Tunstall lies dead upon the field, 
His life-blood stains the spotless shield : 
Edmund is down : — my life is reft ; 
The Admiral alone is left. 
Let Stanley charge with spur of fire, — 
With Chester charge, and Lancashire. 
Full upon Scotland's central host, 2 

Or victory and England's lost 

Must I bid twice ? — hence, varlets ! fly ! 
Leave Marmion here alone — to die." 
They parted, and alone he lay ; 
Clare drew her from the sight away, 
Till pain wrung forth a lowly moan, 
And half he murmur'd, — " Is there none, 

Of all my halls have nurst, 
Page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring 
Of blessed water from the spring, 
To slake my dying thirst !" 

XXX. 

O, Woman ! in our hours of ease, 
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, 

1 [MS.—" Yet my last thought's for England— hie, 

To Dacre give my signet-ring. . . . 
Fitz-Eustace, to Lord Surrey^. "J 

2 [MS. — " Full on King James' central host."] 

Q 



242 marmion. Canto VI. 

And variable as the shade 

By the light quivering aspen made ; 

When pain and anguish wring the brow, 

A ministering angel thou ! — 

Scarce were the piteous accents said, 

When, with the Baron's casque, the maid 

To the nigh streamlet ran : 
Forgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears ; 
The plaintive voice alone she hears, 

Sees but the dying man. 
She stoop'd her by the runnel's side, 1 

But in abhorrence backward drew ; 
For, oozing from the mountain's side, 
Where raged the war, a dark-red tide 

Was curdling in the streamlet blue. 
Where shall she turn ! — behold her mark 

A little fountain cell, 
Where water, clear as diamond- spark, 

In a stone basin fell. 
Above, some half-worn letters say, 

23rtnlt. foearj), gtl^rtw. tfrmit. antf. pray, 
jftrr. ti)t. Ittntf. £tfuL at J^fctl. <3vcv. 
OTf)0, hxtilt tf)te. naste. an*f- focll. 

She fill'd the helm, and back she hied, 
And with surprise and joy espied 

1 [MS. — " She stoop'd her by the runnel's tide, 
But in abhorrence soon withdrew, 
For, oozing from the mountain's wide 
Where raged the war, a dark-red tide 

Was curdling in the streamlet blue. 
Where shall she turn ! behold, she murks 

A little vaulted cell, 
Whose waters, clear as diamond-sparks, 

In a rude basin fell. 
Above, some half-worn letters say, 
Drink, passing- pilgrim, drink, and pray."] 



Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 243 

A Monk supporting Marmion's head ; 
A pious man, whom duty brought 
To dubious verge of battle fought, 

To shrieve the dying, bless the dead. 

XXXI. 

Deep drank Lord Marmion of the wave, 
And, as she stoop 'd his brow to lave — 
" Is it the hand of Clare," he said, 
" Or injured Constance, bathes my head ?" 

Then, as remembrance rose,— 
" Speak not to me of shrift or prayer ! 

I must redress her woes. 
Short space, few words, are mine to spare ; 
Forgive and listen, gentle Clare !" — 

" Alas !" she said, " the while, — 
O, think of your immortal weal ! 
In vain for Constance is your zeal ; 

She died at Holy Isle." — 

Lord Marmion started from the ground, 

As light as if he felt no wound ; 

Though in the action burst the tide 

In torrents from his wounded side. 

" Then it was truth," — he said — " I knew 

That the dark presage must be true 

I would the Fiend, to whom belongs 
The vengeance due to all her wrongs, 

Would spare me but a day ! 
For wasting fire, and dying groan, 1 
And priests slain on the altar stone, 

Might bribe him for delay, 

1 [MS. — " Fire, sacrilege, and dying groan, 

And priests gorged on the altar stone, 
Might bribe him for delay, 



244 marmion. Canto VI. 

It may not be ! — this dizzy trance — 
Curse on yon base marauder's lance, 
And doubly cursed my failing brand ! 
A sinful heart makes feeble hand. 11 
Then, fainting, down on earth he sunk, 
Supported by the trembling Monk. 

XXXII. 

With fruitless labour, Clara bound, 

And strove to stanch the gushing wound : 

The Monk, with unavailing cares, 

Exhausted all the Church's prayers. 

Ever, he said, that, close and near, 

A lady's voice was in his ear, 

And that the priest he could not hear ; 

For that she ever sung, 
" In the lost battle, borne down by the flying, 
Where mingle 's war's rattle with groans of the 
dying /" 

So the notes rung ; — 
" Avoid thee, Fiend ! — with cruel hand, 
Shake not the dying sinner's sand ! — 
O, look, my son, upon yon sign 1 
Of the Redeemer's grace divine ; 

O, think on faith and bliss ! — 



And all by whom the deed was done, 
Should with myself become his own. 

It may not be" ] 

1 [MS. — " O, look, my son, upon this cross, 
O, think upon the grace divine, 

On saints and heavenly bliss !— 
By many a sinner's bed I've been, 
And many a dismal parting seen, 

But never aught like this."] 



Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 245 

By many a death-bed I have been, 
And many a sinner's parting seen, 

But never aught like this." — 
The war, that for a space did fail, 
Now trebly thundering swell'd the gale, 

And — Stanley ! was the cry ; — 
A light on Marmion's visage spread, 

And fired his glazing eye : l 
"With dying hand, above his head 
He shook the fragment of his blade, 

And shouted " Victory ! — 
Charge, Chester, charge ! On, Stanley, on ! " 
Were the last words of Marmion. 

XXXIII. 

By this, though deep the evening fell, 
Still rose the battle's dreadful swell, 
For still the Scots, around their King, 
Unbroken, fought in desperate ring. 
Where's now their victor van ward wing, 

Where Huntly, and where Home ? — 
O, for a blast of that dread horn, 
On Fontarabian echoes borne, 

That to King Charles did come, 
When Roland brave, and Olivier, 
And every paladin and peer, 

On Roncesvalles died ! 
Such blast might warn them, not in vain, 
To quit the plunder of the slain, 
And turn the doubtful day again, 

While yet on Flodden side, 
Afar, the Royal standard flies, 
And round it toils, and bleeds, and dies, 
1 [MS. — " And sparkled in his eye."] 



24 6 marmion. Canto VI. 

Our Caledonian pride ! 
In vain the wish — for far away, 
While spoil and havoc mark their way. 

Near Sybil's Cross the plunderers stray 

" O, Lady," cried the Monk, " away I" 1 

And placed her on her steed, 
And led her to the chapel fair, 

Of Tilmouth upon Tweed. 
There all the night they spent in prayer, 
And at the dawn of morning, there 
She met her kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare. 

XXXIV. 

But as they left the dark'ning heath, 2 
More desperate grew the strife of death. 
The English shafts in volleys hail'd, 
In headlong charge their horse assaiPd ; 
Front, flank, and rear, the squadrons sweep 
To break the Scottish circle deep, 

That fought around their King. 
But yet, though thick the shafts as snow, 
Though charging knights like whirlwinds go, 
Though bill-men ply the ghastly blow, 

Unbroken was the ring ; 
The stubborn spear-men still made good 3 
Their dark impenetrable wood, 
Each stepping where his comrade stood, 

1 [MS. — " In vain the wish — for far they stray. 

And spoil and havoc mark'd their way. 
' O, Lady,' cried the Monk, ' away!' "J 

2 [MS. — " But still upon the darkening heath."] 

3 [MS. — " Ever the stubborn spears made good 

Their dark impenetrable wood ; 
Each Scot step'd where his comrade stood, 
The instant that he fell, 



Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 247 

The instant that he fell. 
No thought was there of dastard flight ; 
Link'd in the serried phalanx tight, 
Groom fought like noble, squire like knight, 

As fearlessly and well ; 
Till utter darkness closed her wing 
O'er their thin host and wounded King. 
Then skilful Surrey's sage commands 
Led back from strife his shatter'd bands ; 
And from the charge they drew, 
As mountain-waves, from wasted lands, 

Sweep back to ocean blue. 
Then did their loss his foemen know ; 
Their King, their Lords, their mightiest low, 
They melted from the field — as snow, 
When streams are swoln and south winds blow 

Dissolves in silent dew. 
Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash, 

While many a broken band, 
Disorder'd, through her currents dash. 

To gain the Scottish land ; 



Till the last ray of parting light, 

Then ceased perforce the dreadful fight, 

And sunk the battle's yell. 
The skilful Surrey's sage commands 
Drew from the strife his shatter'd bands 

Their loss his foemen knew ; 
Their King, their Lords, their mightiest low, 
They melted from the field — as snow, 
When streams are swoln and south winds blow, 

Melts from the mountain blue. 

By various march their scatter'd bands, 
Disorder'd, gain'd the Scottish lands. — 
Day dawn's on Flodden's dreary side, 
And sho w'd the scene of carnage wide : 
There, Scotland, lay thy bravest pride !""j 



248 MARMION. Canto VI. 

To town and tower, to down and dale, 
To tell red Flodden's dismal tale, 
And raise the universal wail. 1 
Tradition, legend, tune, and song, 
Shall many an age that wail prolong : 
Still from the sire the son shall hear 
Of the stern strife, and carnage drear, 

Of Flodden's fatal field, 
Where shiver'd was fair Scotland's spear, 

And broken was her shield ! 

XXXV. 

Day dawns upon the mountain's side : — 2 
There, Scotland ! lay thy bravest pride. 
Chiefs, knights, and nobles, many a one : 

The sad survivors all are gone 

View not that corpse mistrustfully, 
Defaced and mangled though it be ; 
Nor to yon Border castle high, 
Look northward with upbraiding eye ; 

J [" The powerful poetry of these passages can receive no illus- 
tration from any praise or observations of ours. It is superior, in 
our apprehension, to all that this author has hitherto produced ; 
and, with a few faults of diction, equal to any thing that has ever 
been written upon similar subjects. From the moment the author 
gets in sight of Flodden field, indeed, to the end of the poem, there 
is no tame writing, and no intervention of ordinary passages. He 
does not once flag or grow tedious ; and neither stops to describe 
dresses and ceremonies, nor to commemorate the harsh names of 
feudal barons from the Border. There is a flight of five or six 
hundred lines, in short, in which he never stoops his wing, nor 
wavers in his course ; but carries the reader forward with a more 
rapid, sustained, and lofty movement, than any epic bard that we 
can at present remember." — Jeffrey.] 

2 ["Day glimmers on the dying and the dead, 
The cloven cuirass, and the helmless head," &c. 
Byron's Lara, 1 ] 



Canto VI, THE BATTLE. 249 

Nor cherish hope in vain, 
That, journeying far on foreign strand, 
The Royal Pilgrim to his land 

May yet return again. 
He saw the wreck his rashness wrought ; 
Reckless of life, he desperate fought, 

And fell on Flodden plain : 
And well in death his trusty brand, 
Firm clench M within his manly hand, 

Beseem'd the monarch slain. 1 
But, O ! how changed since yon blithe night ! — 
Gladly I turn me from the sight, 

Unto my tale again. 

XXXVI. 

Short is my tale : — Fitz-Eustace 1 care 

A pierced and mangled body bare 

To moated Lichfield's lofty pile ; 

And there, beneath the southern aisle, 

A tomb, with Gothic sculpture fair, 

Did long Lord Marmion's image bear, 

(Now vainly for its sight you look ; 

'Twas levell'd, when fanatic Brook 

The fair cathedral storm'd and took ; 2 

But, thanks to Heaven, and good Saint Chad, 

A guerdon meet the spoiler had !) 

There erst was martial Marmion found, 

His feet upon a couchant hound, 

His hands to Heaven upraised ; 
And all around, on scutcheon rich, 
And tablet carved, and fretted niche, 

His arms and feats were blazed. 

i [See Appendix, Note 3 R. ] 
2 [See Appendix, Note 3 S."j 



250 marmion. Canto VI. 

And yet, though all was carved so fair, 
And priest for Marmion breathed the prayer, 
The last Lord Marmion lay not there. 
From Ettrick woods, a peasant swain 
Follow 'd his lord to Flodden plain, — 
One of those flowers, whom plaintive lay 
In Scotland mourns as " wede away : " 
Sore wounded, Sybil's Cross he spied, 
And dragg'd him to its foot, and died, 
Close by the noble Marmion 's side. 
The spoilers stripp'd and gash'd the slain, 
And thus their corpses were mista'en •, 
And thus, in the proud Baron's tomb, 
The lowly woodsman took the room. 

XXXVII. 

Less easy task it were, to show 

Lord Marmion's nameless grave, and low. 

They dug his grave e'en where he lay, 1 

But every mark is gone ; 
Time's wasting hand has done away 
The simple Cross of Sybil Grey, 

And broke her font of stone : 
But yet from out the little hill 2 
Oozes the slender springlet still. 

Oft halts the stranger there, 
For thence may best his curious eye 
The memorable field descry ; 

And shepherd boys repair 
To seek the water-flag and rush, 
And rest them by the hazel bush, 

And plait their garlands fair ; 

i [MS.—" They dug his bed e'en where he lay."] 
2 r MS.— " But yet where swells the little hill."] 



Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 251 

Nor dream they sit upon the grave, 
That holds the bones of Marmion brave— 
When thou shalt find the little hill, 1 
With thy heart commune, and be still. 
If ever, in temptation strong. 
Thou left'st the right path for the wrong; 
If every devious step, thus trod, 
Still led thee farther from the road ; 
Dread thou to speak presumptuous doom 
On noble Marmion's lowly tomb ; 
But say, " He died a gallant knight, 
With sword in hand, for England's right." 

XXXVIII. 

I do not rhyme to that dull elf, 

Who cannot image to himself, 

That all through Flodden's dismal night, 

Wilton was foremost in the fight ; 

That, when brave Surrey's steed was slain, 

'Twas Wilton mounted him again ; 

'Twas Wilton's brand that deepest hew'd, 2 

Amid the spearmen's stubborn wood : 

Unnamed by Hollinshed or Hall, 

He was the living soul of all ; 

That, after fight, his faith made plain, 

He won his rank and lands again ; 

And charged his old paternal shield 

With bearings won on Flodden Field. 

Nor sing I to that simple maid, 

To whom it must in terms be said, 

i [MS.—" If thou should'st find this little tomb, 

Beware to speak a hasty doom."] 
2 [MS.—" He hardest press'd the Scottish ring ; 

'Twas thought that he struck down the King. "] 



252 marmion. Canto VI, 

That King and kinsmen did agree, 

To bless fair Clara's constancy ; 

Who cannot, unless I relate, 

Paint to her mind the bridal's state ; 

That Wolsey's voice the blessing spoke, 

More, Sands, and Denny, pass'd the joke • 

That bluff King Hal the curtain drew, 

And Catherine's hand the stocking threw ; 

And afterwards, for many a day, 

That it was held enough to say, 

In blessing to a wedded pair, 

" Love they like Wilton and like Clare ! " 



TO THE READER. 
Why then a final note prolong, 
Or lengthen out a closing song, 
Unless to bid the gentles speed, 
Who long have listed to my rede ? 1 
To Statesmen grave, if such may deign 
To read the Minstrel's idle strain, 
Sound head, clean hand, and piercing wit, 
And patriotic heart — as Pitt ! 
A garland for the hero's crest, 
And twined by her he loves the best ; 
To every lovely lady bright, 
What can I wish but faithful knight ? 
To every faithful lover too, 
What can I wish but lady true ? 

1 Used generally for tale, or discourse. 



Canto VI. THE BATTLE. 2.53 

And knowledge to the studious sage ; 

And pillow to the head of age. 

To thee, dear school-boy, whom my lay 

Has cheated of thy hour of p]ay, 

Light task, and merry holiday ! 

To all, to each, a fair good-night, 

And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light ! 



[ 235 ] 



APPENDIX. 



Note A. 

As when the Champion of the Lake 

Enters Morgana 's fated house, 

Or in the Chapel Perilous, 

Despising spells and demons' force, 

Holds converse with the unburied corse. — P. 25. 

The Romance of the Morte Arthur contains a sort of abridge- 
ment of the most celebrated adventures of the Round Table ; and, 
being written in comparatively modern language, gives the general 
reader an excellent idea of what romances of chivalry actually were. 
It has also the merit of being written in pure old English ; and 
many of the wild adventures which it contains are told with a 
simplicity bordering upon the sublime. Several of these are refer- 
red to in the text ; and I would have illustrated them by more full 
extracts, but as this curious work is about to be republished, I 
confine myself to the tale of the Chapel Perilous, and of the quest 
of Sir Launcelot after the Sangreal. 

" Right so Sir Launcelot departed, and when he came to the 
Chapell Perilous, he alighted downe, and tied his horse to a little 
gate. And as soon as he was within the churchyard, he saw, on 
the front of the chapell, many faire rich shields turned upside 
downe ; and many of the shields Sir Launcelot had seene knights 
have before ; with that be saw stand by him thirtie great knights, 
more, by a yard, than any man that ever he had seene, and all 



256 APPENDIX TO 

those grinned and gnashed at Sir Launcelot ; and when he saw 
their countenance, hee dread them sore, and so put his shield 
afore him, and tooke his sword in his hand ready to doe battaile ; 
and they were all armed in black harneis, ready, with their 
shields and swords drawen. And when Sir Launcelot would have 
gone through them, they scattered on every side of him, and gave 
him the way ; and therewith he waxed all bold, and entered into 
the chap ell, and then hee saw no light but a dimme lampe burning, 
and then was he ware of a corps covered with a cloath of silke ; 
then Sir Launcelot stooped downe, and cut a piece of that cloath 
away, and then it fared under Mm as the earth had quaked a little, 
whereof he was afeard, and then hee saw a faire sword lye by the 
dead knight, and that he gat in his hand, and hied him out of the 
chappell. As soon as he was in the chappell-yerd, all the knights 
spoke to him with a grimly voice, and said, ' Knight, Sir Launcelot, 
lay that sword from thee, or else thou shalt die.' — ' Whether I live 
or die,' said Sir Launcelot, ' with no great words get yee it againe, 
therefore fight for it and ye list.' Therewith he passed through 
them ; and beyond the chappell-yerd, there met him a faire damo- 
sell, and said, ' Sir Launcelot, leave that sword behind thee, or 
thou wilt die for it.'- — ' I will not leave it,' said Sir Launcelot, ' for 
no threats.' — ' No ?' said she ; ' and ye did leave that sword, Queen 
Guenever should ye never see.' — ' Then were I a foole and I would 
leave this sword,' said Sir Launcelot. ' Now, gentle knight,' said 
the damosell, ' I require thee to kisse me once>' — ' Nay,' said Sir 
Launcelot, 'that God forbid!' — 'Well, sir,' said she, 'and thou 
hadest kissed me thy life dayes had been done ; but now, alas !' 
said she, ' I have lost all my labour ; for I ordeined this chappell 
for thy sake, and for Sir Gawaine : and once I had Sir Gawaine 
within it ; and at that time he fought with that knight which there 
lieth dead in yonder chappell, Sir Gilbert the bastard, and at that 
time hee smote off Sir Gilbert the bastard's left hand. And so, 
Sir Launcelot, now I tell thee, that I have loved thee this seven 
yeare ; but there may no woman have thy love but Queene Gue- 
never ; but sithen I may not rejoyice thee to have thy body alive, 
I had kept no more joy in this world but to have had thy dead 
body ; and I would have balmed it and served, and so have kept 
it in my life daies, and daily I should have clipped thee, and kissed 
thee, in the despite of Queene Guenever. V—' Yee say well,' said Sir 
Launcelot; * Jesus preserve me from your subtill craft.' And 
therewith he took his horse, and departed from her." 



257 



Note B. 

A sinful man, and unconfess'd, 

He took the Sangreal's holy quest, 

And, slumbering, saw the vision high, 

He might not view with waking eye.—?. 25. 

One day when Arthur was holding a high feast with his Knights 
of the Round Table, the Sangreal, or vessel out of which the 
last passover was eaten, (a precious relic, which had long remained 
concealed from human eyes, because of the sins of the land,) sud- 
denly appeared to him and all his chivalry. The consequence of 
this vision was, that all the knights took on them a solemn vow to 
seek the Sangreal. But, alas ! it could only be revealed to a knight 
at once accomplished in earthly chivalry, and pure and guiltless of 
evil conversation. All Sir Launcelot's noble accomplishments were 
therefore rendered vain by his guilty intrigue with Queen Guen- 
ever, or Ganore ; and in his holy quest he encountered only such 
disgraceful disasters as that which follows : — 

" But Sir Launcelot rode overthwart and endlong in a wild fo- 
rest, and held no path, but as wild adventure led him ; and at the 
last, he came unto a stone crosse, which departed two wayes, in 
wast land ; and, by the crosse, was a stone that was of marble ; 
but it was so dark, that Sir Launcelot might not well know what 
it was. Then Sir Launcelot looked by him, and saw an old chap- 
pell, and there he wend to have found people. And so Sir Laun- 
celot tied his horse to a tree, and there he put off his shield, and 
hung it upon a tree, and then hee went unto the chappell doore, 
and found it wasted and broken. And within he found a faire altar, 
full richly arrayed with cloth of silk, and there stood a faire candle- 
stick, which beare six great candles, and the candlesticke was of 
silver. And when Sir Launcelot saw this light, hee had a great 
will for to enter into the chappell, but he could find no place where 
hee might enter. Then was he passing heavie and dismaied. Then 
he returned, and came againe to his horse, andtooke off his saddle 
and his bridle, and let him pasture, and unlaced his helme, and 
ungirded his sword, and laid him downe to sleepe upon his shield, 
before the crosse. 

" And so hee fell on sleepe ; and, halfe waking and halfe sleep- 
ing, hee saw come by him two palfreys, both faire and white, the 
which beare a litter, therein lying a sicke knight. And when he 
was nigh the crosse, he there abode still. All this Sir Launcelot 
saw and beheld, for hee slept not verily, and hee heard him say, 
R 



258 .APPENDIX TO 

• O sweete Lord, when shall this sorrow leave me, and when shall 
the holy vessell come by me, where through I shall be blessed, for 
I have endured thus long for little trespasse !' And thus a great 
while complained the knight, and allwaies Sir Launcelot heard it. 
With that Sir Launcelot saw the candlesticke, with the fire tapers, 
come before the crosse ; but he could see no body that brought it. 
Also there came a table of silver, and the holy vessel of the Sanc- 
greall, the which Sir Launcelot had seen before that time in King 
Petchour's house. And therewithall the sicke knight set him up- 
right, and held up both his hands, and said, ' Faire sweete Lord, 
which is here within the holy vessell, take heed to mee, that I 
may bee hole of this great malady !' And therewith upon his hands, 
and upon his knees, he went so nigh, that he touched the holy ves- 
sell, and kissed it: And anon he was hole, and then he said, 
' Lord God, I thank thee, for I am healed of this malady.' Soo 
when the holy vessell had been there a great while, it went into 
the chappell againe, with the candlesticke and the light, so that 
Sir Launcelot wist not where it became, for he was overtaken with 
sinne, that he had no power to arise against the holy vessell, where- 
fore afterward many men said of him shame. But he tooke repen- 
tance afterward. Then the sicke knight dressed him upright, and 
kissed the crosse. Then anon his squire brought him his armes, 
and asked his Lord how he did. c Certainly,' said hee, I thanke 
God heartily, for through the holy vessell I am healed : But I have 
right great mervaile of this sleeping knight, which hath had neither 
grace nor power to awake during the time that this holy vessell 
hathbeene here present.' — ' I dare it right well say,' said the squire, 
' that this same knight is defouled with some manner of deadly 
sinne, whereof he has never confessed.' — ' By my faith, said the 
knight, ' whatsoever he be, he is unhappie ; for, as I deeme, he is 
of the fellowship of the Round Table, the which is entered into 
the quest of the Sangreal.' — ' Sir,' said the squire, ' here I have 
brought you all your armes, save your holme and your sword ; and, 
therefore, by mine assent, now may ye take this knight's helme and 
his sword ;' and so he did. And when he was cleane armed, he 
took Sir Launcelot's horse, for he was better than his owne, and 
so they departed from the crosse. 

" Then anon Sir Launcelot awaked, and set himselfe upright, and 
he thought him what hee had there seene, and whether it were 
dreams or not ; right so he heard a voice that said, ' Sir Launcelot, 
more hardy than is the stone, and more bitter than is the wood, 
and more naked and bare than is the liefe of the fig-tree, there- 
fore go thou from hence, and withdraw thee from this holy place ;' 
and when Sir Launcelot heard this, he was passing heavy, and wist 
not what to doe. And so he departed sore weeping, and cursed 



MARMION. 259 

the time that he was borne ; for then he deemed never to have had 
more worship ; for the -words went unto his heart, till that he knew 
wherefore that hee was so called." 



Note C. 

And Dryden, in immortal strain, 
Had raised the Table round again, 
But that a riobald King and Court 
Bade Mm toil on, to make them sport ; 
Demanded for their niggard pay, 
Fit for their souls, a looser lay, 
Licentious satire, song, and play.— J*. 25. 

Dryden s melancholy account of his projected Epic Poem, blasted 
by the selfish and sordid parsimony of his patrons, is contained in 
an " Essay on Satire," addressed to the Earl of Dorset, and pre- 
fixed to the Translation of Juvenal. After mentioning a plan of 
supplying machinery from the guardian angels of kingdoms, men- 
tioned in the Book of Daniel, he adds, — 

" Thus, my lord, I have, as briefly as I could, given your lordship, 
and by you the world, a rude draught of what I have been long 
labouring in my imagination, and what I had intended to have 
put in practice ; (though far unable for the attempt of such a 
poem :) and to have left the stage, to which my genius never much 
inclined me, for a work which would have taken up my life in the 
performance of it. This, too, I had intended chiefly for the honour 
of my native country, to which a poet is particularly obliged. Of 
two subjects, both relating to it, I was doubtful whether I should 
choose that of King Arthur conquering the Saxons, which, being 
farther distant in time, gives the greater scope to my invention ; or 
that of Edward the Black Prince, in subduing Spain, and restoring 
it to the lawful prince, though a great tyrant, Don Pedro the 
Cruel ; which, for the compass of time, including only the expe- 
dition of one year, for the greatness of the action, and its answer- 
able event, for the magnanimity of the English hero, opposed to 
the ingratitude of the person whom he restored, and for the many 
beautiful episodes which I had interwoven with the principal 
design, together with the characters of the chiefest English per- 
sons, (wherein, after Virgil and Spenser, I would have taken occa- 
sion to represent my living friends and patrons of the noblest 
families, and also shadowed the events of future ages in the suc- 
cession of our imperial line,) — with these helps, and those of the 



260 APPENDIX TO 

machines which I have mentioned, I might perhaps have done as 
well as some of my predecessors, or at least chalked out a way for 
others to amend my errors in a like design ; but being encouraged 
only with fair words by King Charles II., my little salary ill paid, 
and no prospect of a future subsistence, I was then discouraged in 
the beginning of my attempt ; and now age has overtaken me, and 
want, a more insufferable evil, through the change of the times, 
has wholly disabled me." 



Note D. 
OfAscapart, and Bcvis bold.—?. 27. 

The " History of Bevis of Hampton" is abridged by my friend 
Mr. George Ellis, with that liveliness which extracts amusement 
even out of the most rude and unpromising of our old tales of chi- 
valry. Ascapart, a most important personage in the romance, is 
thus described in an extract : — 

" This geaunt was mighty and strong. 

And full thirty foot was long. 

He was bristled like a sow ; 

A foot he had between each brow ; 

His lips were great, and hung aside ; 

His eyen were hollow, his mouth was wide ; 

Lothly he was to look on than, 

And liker a devil than a man. 

His staff was a young oak, 

Hard and heavy was his stroke." 

Specimens of Metrical Romances, vol. ii. p. 136. 
I am happy to say, that the memory of Sir Bevis is still fragrant 
in his town of Southampton ; the gate of which is sentinelled by the 
effigies of that doughty knight errant and his gigantic associate. 



Note E. 

Day set on Norham's castled steep, 

And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep, &c.— P. 28. 

The ruinous castle of Norham (anciently called C T bbanford) is 
situated on the southern bank of the Tweed, about six miles above 
Berwick, and where that river is still the boundary between 



MARMION. 



261 



England and Scotland. The extent of its ruins, as well as its his- 
torical importance, shows it to have been a place of magnificence, 
as well as strength. Edward I. resided there when he was created 
umpire of the dispute concerning the Scottish succession. It was 
repeatedly taken and retaken during the wars between England 
and Scotland ; and, indeed, scarce any happened, in which it had 
not a principal share. Norham Castle is situated on a steep bank, 
which overhangs the river. The repeated sieges which the castle 
had sustained, rendered frequent rerjairs necessary. In 1164, it 
was almost rebuilt by Hugh Pudsey, Bishop of Durham, Avho added 
a huge keep, or donjon ; notwithstanding which, King Henry II., 
in 1174, took the castle from the bishop, and committed the keep- 
ing of it to William de Neville. After this period it seems to have 
been chiefly garrisoned by the King, and considered as a royal 
fortress. The Greys of Chillingham Castle were frequently the 
castellans, or captains of the garrison : Yet, as the castle was 
situated in the patrimony of St. Cuthbert, the property was in the 
see of Durham till the Reformation. After that period, it passed 
through various hands. At the union of the crowns, it was in the 
possession of Sir Robert Carey, (afterwards Earl of Monmouth,) 
for his own life, and that of two of his sons. After King James's 
accession, Carey sold Norham Castle to George Home, Earl of 
Dunbar, for £6000. See his curious Memoirs, published by Mr. 
Constable of Edinburgh. 

According to Mr. Pinkerton, there is, in the British Museum, 
Cal. B. 6. 216, a curious memoir of the Dacres on the state of Nor- 
ham Castle in 1522, not long after the battle of Flodden. The inner 
ward, or keep, is represented as impregnable : — " The provisions 
are three great vats of salt eels, forty-four kine, three hogsheads of 
salted salmon, forty quarters of grain, besides many cows and four 
hundred sheep, lying under the castle-wall nightly ; but a number 
of the arrows wanted feathers, and a good Fletcher [i. e. maker of 
arrows] was required."— History of Scotland, vol. ii. p. 201, note. 

The ruins of the castle are at present considerable, as well as 
picturesque. They consist of a large shattered tower, with many 
vaults, and fragments of other edifices, enclosed within an outward 
wall of great circuit. 



Note F. 

The donjon keep. — P. 28. 

It is perhaps unnecessary to remind my readers, that the donjon, 
in its proper signification, means the strongest part of a feudal 



262 APPENDIX TO 

castle ; a high square tower, with walls of tremendous thickness, 
situated in the centre of the other buildings, from which, however, 
it was usually detached. Here, in case of the outward defences 
being gained, the garrison retreated to make their last stand. The 
donjon contained the great hall, and principal rooms of state for 
solemn occasions, and also the prison of the fortress ; from which 
last circumstance we derive the modern and restricted use of the 
word dungeon. Ducange (voce Dunjo) conjectures plausibly, that 
the name is derived from these keeps being usually built upon a 
hill, which in Celtic is called Dun. Borlase supposes the word 
came from the darkness of the apartments in these towers, which 
were thence figuratively called Dungeons ; thus deriving the ancient 
word from the modern application of it. 



Note G. 

Well was he arm 'd from head to heel, 
In mail and plate of Milan steel.— P. 31. 

The artists of Milan were famous in the middle ages for their 
skill in armoury, as appears from the following passage, in which 
Froissart gives an account of the preparations made by Henry, Earl 
of Hereford, afterwards Henry IV., and Thomas, Duke of Norfolk, 
Earl Marischal, for their proposed combat in the lists at Coventry : 
— " These two lords made ample provisions of all things necessary 
for the combat ; and the Earl of Derby sent off messengers to Lom- 
bardy, to have armour from Sir Galeas, Duke of Milan. The Duke 
complied with joy, and gave the knight, called Sir Francis, who 
had brought the message, the choice of all his armour for the Earl 
of Derby. When he had selected what he wished for in plated and 
mail armour, the Lord of Milan, out of his abundant love for the 
Earl, ordered four of the best armourers in Milan to accompany the 
knight to England, the Earl of Derby might be more completely 
armed."— Johnes' Froissart, vol. iv. p. 597- 



Note H. 
The golden legend bore aright, 

OT*)0 djetfctf at we, tn Ueatf) te fct£l)t — p. n. 

The crest and motto of Marmion are borrowed from the follow- 
ing story :— Sir David de Lindsay, first Earl of Crauford, was, among 
other gentlemen of quality, attended, daring a visit to London, in 



MARMION. 263 

1390, by Sir William Dalzell, who was, according to my authority, 
Bower, not only excelling in wisdom, but also of a lively wit. 
Chancing to be at the court, he there saw Sir Piers Courtenay, an 
English knight, famous for skill in tilting, and for the beauty of his 
person, parading the palace, arrayed in a new mantle, bearing for 
device an embroidered falcon, with this rhyme, — 
" I bear a falcon, fairest of flight, 
Whoso pinches at her, his death is dight l 

In graith." 2 
The Scottish knight, being a wag, appeared next day in a dress 
exactly similar to that of Courtenay, but bearing a magpie instead 
of the falcon, with a motto ingeniously contrived to rhyme to the 
vaunting inscription of Sir Piers : — 

" I bear a pie picking at a piece, 
Whoso picks at her, I shall pick at his nese,3 
In faith." 
This affront could only be expiated by a just with sharp lances. 
In the course, Dalzell left his helmet unlaced, so that it gave way 
at the touch of his antagonist's lance, and he thus avoided the shock 
of the encounter. This happened twice : — in the third encounter, 
the handsome Courtenay lost two of his front teeth. As the Eng- 
lishman complained bitterly of Dalzell's fraud in not fastening his 
helmet, the Scottishman agreed to run six courses more, each 
champion staking in the hand of the King two hundred pounds, to 
be forfeited, if, on entering the lists, any unequal advantage should 
be detected. This being agreed to, the wily Scot demanded that 
Sir Piers, in addition to the loss of his teeth, should consent to the 
extinction of one of his eyes, he himself having lost an eye in the 
fight of Otterburn. As Courtenay demurred to this equalization 
of optical powers, Dalzell demanded the forfeit ; which, after much 
altercation, the King appointed to be paid to him, saying, he sur- 
passed the English both in wit and valour. This must appear to 
the reader a singular specimen of the humour of that time. I sus- 
pect the Jockey Club would have given a different decision from 
Henry IV. 

Note I. 

They hail'd Lord Marmion : 
They haiVd him Lord of Fontenaye, 
Of Luttemvard, and Scrivelbaye, 

OfTamworth tower and town. — P. 34. 

Lord Marmion, the principal character of the present romance, 
1 Prepared. 2 Armour. 3 Nose. 



264 



AFPENDIX TO 



is entirely a fictitious personage. In earlier times, indeed, the fa- 
mily of Marmion, Lords of Fontenay, in Normandy, was highly dis- 
tinguished. Robert de Marmion, Lord of Fontenay, a distinguish- 
ed follower of the Conqueror, obtained a grant of the castle and 
town of Tarn worth, and also of the manor of Scrivelby, in Lincoln- 
shire. One, or both, of these noble possessions, was held by the 
honourable service of being the royal champion, as the ancestors 
of Marmion had formerly been to the Dukes of Normandy. But 
after the castle and demesne of Tarn worth had passed through four 
successive barons from Robert, the family became extinct in the 
person of Philip de Marmion, who died in 20th Edward I. without 
issue male. He was succeeded in his castle of Tamworth by Alex- 
ander de Freville, who married Mazera, his grand-daughter. Bald- 
win de Freville, Alexander's descendant, in the reign of Richard 
I., by the supposed tenure of the castle of Tamworth, claimed the 
office of royal champion, and to do the service appertaining ; 
namely, on the day of coronation, to ride, completely armed, upon 
a barbed horse, into Westminster Hall, and there to challenge the 
combat against any who would gainsay the King's title. But this 
office was adjudged to Sir John Dymoke, to whom the manor of 
Scrivelby had descended by another of the co-heiresses of Robert 
de Marmion ; and it remains in that family, whose representative 
is Hereditary Champion of England at the present day. The family 
and possessions of Freville have merged in the Earls of Ferrars. I 
have not, therefore, created a new family, but only revived the titles 
of an old one in an imaginary personage. 

It was one of the Marmion family, who, in the reign of Edward 
II., performed that chivalrous feat before the very castle of Nor- 
ham, which Bishop Percy has woven into his beautiful ballad, 
" The Hermit of Warkworth." — The story is thus told by Le- 
land : — 

" The Scottes came yn to the marches of England, and destroyed 
the castles of Werk and Herbotel, and overran much of Northum- 
berland marches. 

" At this tyme, Thomas Gray and his friendcs defended Norham 
from the Scottes. 

" It were a wonderful processe to declare, what mischiefs cam 
by hungre and asseges by the space of xi yercs in Northumberland 
for the Scottes became so proude after they had got Berwick, that 
they nothing esteemed the Englishmen. 

" About this tyme there was a greate feaste made yn Lincolnshir, 
to which came many gentlemen and ladies ; and amonge them one 
lady brought a heaulme for a man of were, with a very riche creste 
of gold, to William Marmion, knight, with a letter of commande- 
ment of her lady, that he should go into the daungerest place in 



MARMION. 265 

England, and ther to let the heaulme be seene and known as fa- 
mous. So he went to Norham ; whither 5 within 4 days of dim- 
ming, cam Philip Moubray, guardian of Eerwicke, having yn his 
bande 40 men of armes 3 the very flour of men of the Scottish 
marches. 

" Thomas Gray, capitayne of Norham, seynge this, brought his 
garison afore the barriers of the castel, behind whom cam William, 
richly arrayed, as al glittering in gold, and wearing the heaulme, 
his lady's present. 

"Then said Thomas Gray to Marmion, e Sir Knight, ye be cum 
hither to fame your helmet : mount up on yowr horse, and ryde 
lyke a valiant man to yowr foes even here at hand, and I forsake 
God if I rescue not thy body deade or alyve, or I myself wyl dye 
for it.' 

" Whereupon he toke his cursere, and rode among the throng 
of ennemyes ; the which layed sore stripes on him, and pulled him 
at the last out of his sadel to the grounde. 

" Then Thomas Gray, with al the hole garrison, lette prick yn 
among the Scottes, and so wondid them and their horses, that they 
were overthrowan ; and Marmion, sore beten, was horsid agayn, 
and, with Gray, persewed the Scottes yn chase. There were taken 
50 horse of price ; and the women of Norham brought them to the 
foote men to follow the chase." 



Note K. 

—P. 34. 



This was the cry with which heralds and pursuivants were wont 
to acknowledge the bounty received from the knights. Stewart of 
Lorn distinguishes a ballad, in which he satirizes the narrowness 
of James V. and his courtiers, by the ironical burden — 

" Lerges, Urges, Urges, hay, 

Lerges of this new-yeir day. 
First lerges of the King, my chief, 
Quhilk come als quiet as a theif, 

And in my hand slid schillingis tway, l 
To put his lergnes to the preif, 2 

For lerges of this new-yeir day." 

The heralds, like the minstrels, were a race allowed to have 
great claims upon the liberality of the knights, of whose feats they 

1 Two. 2 Proof. 



266 APPENDIX TO 

kept a record, and proclaimed them aloud, as in the text, upon 
suitable occasions. 

At Berwick, Norham, and other Border fortresses of importance, 
pursuivants usually resided, whose inviolable character rendered 
them the only persons that could, with perfect assurance of safety, 
be sent on necessary embassies into Scotland. This is alluded to 
in stanza xxi. p. 40. 



Note L. 

Sir Hugh the Heron bold, 
Baron ofTwisdl, and of Ford, 
And Captain of the Hold.—Y. 35. 

Were accuracy of any consequence in a fictitious narrative, this 
castellan's name ought to have been William ; for William Heron 
of Ford was husband to the famous Lady Ford, whose siren charms 
are said to have cost our James IV. so dear. Moreover, the said 
William Heron was, at the time supposed, a prisoner in Scotland, 
being surrendered by Henry VIII., on account of his share in the 
slaughter of Sir Robert Ker of Cessford. His wife, represented in 
the text as residing at the Court of Scotland, was, in fact, living in 
her own Castle at Ford.— See Sir Richard Heron's curious Gene- 
alogy of the Heron Family. 



Note M. 

The whiles a Norrthern harper rude 

Chanted a rhyme of deadly feud, — 

" How the fierce ThirwalU, and Ridleysatt," <$-c.— P. 36. 

This old Northumbrian ballad was taken down from the recita- 
tion of a woman eighty years of age, mother of one of the miners 
in Alston-moor, by an agent for the lead mines there, who com- 
municated it to my friend and correspondent, R. Surtees, Esquire, 
of Mainsforth. She had not, she said, heard it for many years ; 
but, when she was a girl, it used to be sung at the merry makings, 
" till the roof rung again." To preserve this curious, though rude 
rhyme, it is here inserted. The ludicrous turn given to the slaugh- 
ter, marks that wild and disorderly state of society, in which a 
murder was not merely "a casual circumstance, but, in some cases, 
an exceedingly good jest. The structure of the ballad resembles 



MARMION. 267 

the " Fray of Suport," > having the same irregular stanza and wild 
chorus. 

I. 

Hoot awa', lads, hoot awa', 

Ha' ye heard how the Ridleys, and Thirwalls, and a' 

Ha' set upon Albany 2 Featherstonhaugh, 

And taken his life at the Deadmanshaugh ? 

There was Will i m ot e s wick, 

And Hardriding Dick, 
And Hughie of Hawden, and Will of the Wa\ 

I canno' tell a', I canno' tell a', 
And mony a mair that the deil may knaw. 

II. 
The auld man went down, but Nicol, his son, 
Ran away afore the fight was begun ; 

And he run, and he run, 

And afore they were done, 
There was many a Featherston gat sic a stun, 
As never was seen since the world begun. 

III. 
I canno' tell a', I canno' tell a' ; 
Some gat a skelp,3 and some gat a claw ; 
But they gard the Featherstons haud their jaw, — 4 

Nicol, and Alick, and a'. 
Some gat a hurt, and some gat nane ; 
Some had harness, and some gat sta'en. 5 

IV. 
Ane gat a twist o' the craig ; 6 
Ane gat a bunch? o' the wame ; 8 
Symy Haw gat lamed of a leg, 
And syne ran wallowing 9 hame. 

1 See Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, vol. ii. p. 124. 

2 Pronounced Aicbony. 

3 Skelp signifies slap, or rather is the same word which was ori- 
ginally spelled schlap. 

4 Hold their jaw, a vulgar expression still in use. 

5 Got stolen, or, were plundered ; a very likely termination of 
the fray. 

© Neck. 7 Punch. 8 Belly. 9 Bellowing. 



268 APPENDIX TO 

V. 

Hoot, hoot, the old man's slain outright ! 

Lay him now wi' his face down : — he's a sorrowful sight. 

Janet, thou donot,* 

I'll lay my best bonnet, 
Thou gets a new gude-man afore it be night. 

VI. 

Hoo away, lads, hoo away, 
We's a' be hangid if we stay. 

Tak up the dead man, and lay him ahint the bigging. 
Here's the Bailey o' Halt whistle, 2 
Wi' his great bull's pizzle, 

That sup'dup the broo',— and syne in the piggin.3 

In explanation of this ancient ditty, Mr. Surtees has furnished 
me with the following local memorandum : Willimoteswick, the 
chief seat of the ancient family of Ridley, is situated two miles 
above the confluence of the Allon and Tyne. It was a house of 
strength, as appears from one oblong tower, still in tolerable pre- 
servation. 4 It has been long in possession of the Blacket family. 
Hardriding Dick is not an epithet referring to horsemanship, but 
means Richard Ridley of HardridingS, the seat of another family 
of that name, which, in the time of Charles I., was sold on account 
of expenses incurred by the loyalty of the proprietor, the imme- 
diate ancestor of Sir Matthew Ridley. Will of the Wa' seems to 
be William Ridley of Walltown, so called from its situation on the 
great Roman wall. Thirlwall Castle, whence the clan of Thirl- 
walls derived their name, is situated on the small river of Tippel, 

1 Silly slut. The Border bard calls her so, because she was 
weeping for her slain husband ; a loss which he seems to think 
might be soon repaired. 

2 The Bailiff of Haltwhistle seems to have arrived when the fray 
was over. This supporter of social order is treated with character- 
istic irreverence by the moss-trooping poet. 

3 An iron pot with two ears. 

4 Willimoteswick was, in prior editions, confounded with Rid- 
ley Hall, situated two miles lower, on the same side of the Tyne, 
the hereditary seat of William C. Lowes, Esq. 

5 Ridley, the bishop and martyr, was, according to some autho- 
rities, born at Hardriding, where a chair was preserved, called the 
Bishop's Chair. Others, and particularly his biographer and name- 
sake Dr. Glocester Ridley, assign the honour of the martyr's birth 
to Willimoteswick. 



MARMION. 269 

near the western boundary of Northumberland. It is near the wall, 
and takes its name from the rampart having been thirled, i. e. 
pierced, or breached, in its vicinity. Featherston Castle lies south 
of the Tyne, towards Alston-moor. Albany Featherstonhaugh, the 
chief of that ancient family, made a figure in the reign of Edward 
VI. A feud did certainly exist between the Ridleys and Feather- 
stons. productive of such consequences as the ballad narrates. 24 
Oct. 22do Henrici 8vi. Inquisitio capt. apud Hautwhisile, sup visum 
corpus Alexandri Featherston, Gen. apud Grensilhaugh felonice in- 
terfecti, 22 Oct. per Nicolaum Ridley de Unthanke, Gen. Hugon 
Ridle, Nicolaum Ridle, et alios ejusdem nominis. Nor were the 
Featherstons without their revenge ; for, 36to Henrici 8vi, we have 
— Utlagatio Nicolai Fetherston, ac Thome Nyxson, $c. <$-c. pro 
homicidio Will. Ridle de Morale. 



Note N. 

James back'd the cause of that mock prince, 
Warbcck, that Flemish counterfeit, 
Who on the gibbet paid the cheat. 
Then did I march tvith Surrey's power, 
What time we razed old Ayton tower. — P. 39. 

The story of Perkin Warbeck, or Richard, Duke of York, is 
well known. In 1496, he was received honourably in Scotland ; 
and James IV., after conferring upon him in marriage his own 
relation, the Lady Catharine Gordon, made war on England in 
behalf of his pretensions. To retaliate an invasion of England, 
Surrey advanced into Berwickshire at the head of considerable 
forces, but retreated, after taking the inconsiderable fortress of 
Ayton. Ford, in his Dramatic Chronicle of Perkin Warbeck, 
makes the most of this inroad :-— 

" Surrey. 
" Are all our braving enemies shrunk back, 
Hid in the fogges of their distemper'd climate, 
Not daring to behold our colours wave 
In spight of this infected ayre ? Can they 
Looke on the strength of Cundrestine defac't ; 
The glorie of Heydonhall devasted ; that 
Of Edington cast downe ; the pile of Fulden 
Orethrowne : And this, the strongest of their forts, 
Old Ayton Castle, yeelded and demolished, 
And yet not peepe abroad ? The Scots are bold, 



270 APPENDIX TO 

Kardie in battayle, but it seems the cause 
They undertake considered, appeares 
Unjoynted in the frame on't." 



Note O. 

For here be some have prick' d as far. 

On Scottish ground, as to Dunbar ; 

Have drunk the monks of St. Bothan's ale, 

And driven the beeves of Lauderdale ; 

Harried the wives of Greenlaw's goods, 

And given them light to set their hoods.— P. 40. 

The garrisons of the English castles of Wark, Norham, and Ber. 
■wick, were, as may be easily supposed, very troublesome neigh- 
bours to Scotland. Sir Richard Maitland of Ledington wrote a 
poem, called " The Blind Baron's Comfort ;" when his barony of 
Blythe, in Lauderdale, was harried by Rowland Foster, the Eng- 
lish captain of Wark, with his company, to the number of 300 
men. They spoiled the poetical knight of 5000 sheep, 200 nolt, 
30 horses and mares ; the whole furniture of his house of Blythe, 
worth 100 pounds Scots, (£8. 6s. 8d.) and every thing else that was 
portable. "This spoil was committed the 16th day of May, 1570, 
(and the said Sir Richard was threescore and fourteen years of age, 
and grown blind,) in time of peace; when nane of that country 
lippcmd [expected] such a thing." — " The Blind Baron's Comfort" 
consists in a string of puns on the word Blythe, the name of the 
lands thus despoiled. Like John Littlewit, he had " a conceit left 
him in his misery — a miserable conceit." 

The last line of the text contains a phrase, by which the Bor- 
derers jocularly intimated the burning a house. When the Max- 
wells, in 1685, burned the castle of Lochwood, they said they did 
so to give the Lady Johnstone "light to set her hood." Nor was 
the phrase inapplicable ; for, in a letter, to which I have mislaid 
the reference, the Earl of Northumberland writes to the King and 
Council, that he dressed himself at midnight, at Warkworth, by 
the blaze of the neighbouring villages burned by the Scottish 
marauders. 

Note P. 

The priest of Shoreswood. — P. 41. 

This churchman seems to have been akin to Welsh, the vicar of 



MARMION, 271 

St. Thomas of Exeter, a leader among the Cornish insurgents m 
1549. " This man," says Hollinshed, " had many good things in 
him. He was of no great stature, but well set, and mightilie com- 
pact : He was a very good wrestler ; shot well, both in the long- 
bow, and also in the cross-bow ; he handled his hand-gun and 
peece very well ; he was a very good woodman, and a hardie, and 
such a one as would not give his head for the polling, or his beard 
for the washing. He was a companion in any exercise of activitie, 
and of a courteous and gentle behaviour. He descended of a good 
honest parentage, being borne at Peneverin, in Cornwall ; and yet, 
in this rebellion, an arch-captain, and a principal doer." — Vol. iv. 
p. 958, 4to edition. This model of clerical talents had the misfor- 
tune to be hanged upon the steeple of his own church. 1 



Note Q. 

From alt the youth of Sicily \ 

Saint Rosalie retired to God.—V. 43. 

" Sante Rosalie was of Palermo, and born of a very noble family, 
and, when very young, abhorred so much the vanities of this world, 
and avoided the converse of mankind, resolving to dedicate herself 
wholly to God Almighty, that she, by divine inspiration, forsook 
her father's house, and never was more heard of, till her body was 
found in that cleft of a rock, on that almost inaccessible mountain, 
where now the chapel is built ; and they affirm she was carried up 
there by the hands of angels ; for that place was not formerly so 
accessible (as now it is) in the days of the Saint ; and even now it 
is a very bad, and steepy, and break-neck way. In this frightful 
place, this holy woman lived a great many years, feeding only on 
what she found growing on that barren mountain, and creeping into 
a narrow and dreadful cleft in a rock, which was always dropping 
wet, and was her place of retirement, as well as prayer ; having 
worn out even the rock with her knees, in a certain place, which 
is now open'd on purpose to show it to those who come here. 
This chapel is very richly adorn'd ; and on the spot where the 
Saint's dead body was discover'd, which is just beneath the hole in 
the rock, which is open'd on purpose, as I said, there is a very fine 
statue of marble, representing her in a lying posture, railed in all. 
about with fine iron and brass work ; and the altar, on which they 
say mass, is built just over it." — Voyage to Sicily and Malta-, by 
Mr. John Dry den, (son to the poet,) p. 107- 

i [The reader needs hardly to be reminded of Ivanhoe.] 



27'2 APPENDIX TO 

Note R. 

This Palmer,— P. 45. 

A Palmer, opposed to a Pilgrim, was one who made it his sole 
business to visit different holy shrines ; travelling incessantly, and 
subsisting by charity : whereas the Pilgrim retired to his usual 
home and occupations, when he had paid his devotions at the par- 
ticular spot which was the object of his pilgrimage. The Palmers 
seem to have been the Qucestionarii of the ancient Scottish canons 
1242 and 1296. There is in the Bannatyne MS. a burlesque account 
of two such persons, entitled, " Simmy and his Brother." Their 
accoutrements are thus ludicrously described, (I discard the an- 
cient spelling) — 

' ' Syne shaped them up, to loup on leas, 

Two tabards of the tartan ; 
They counted nought what their clouts were 

When sew'd them on, in certain. 
Syne clampit up St. Peter's keys, 

Made of an old red gartane ; 
St. James's shells, on t'other side, shews 

As pretty as a partane 
Toe, 
On Symmye and his brother," 

Note S. 

Where good Saint Rule his holy lap, 
From midnight to the dawn of dap.— P. 47. 

St. Regulus, (Scottice", St. Rule,) a monk of Patrse, fn Achaia, 
warned by a vision, is said, A.D. 370, to have sailed westward, 
until he landed at St. Andrews, in Scotland, where he founded a 
chapel and tower. The latter is still standing ; and, though we 
may doubt the precise date of its foundation, is certainly one of the 
most ancient edifices in Scotland. A cave, nearly fronting the 
ruinous castle of the Archbishops of St. Andrews, bears the name 
of this religious person. It is difficult of access ; and the rock in 
which it is hewed is washed by the German Ocean. It is nearly 
round, about ten feet in diameter, and the same in height. On one 
side is a sort of stone altar ; on the other an aperture into an inner 
den, where the miserable ascetic, who inhabited this dwelling, pro- 



MABMION. L'/J 

bablv slept. At full tide, egress and regress are hardly practicable. 
As Regulus first colonized the metropolitan see of Scotland, and 
converted the inhabitants in the vicinity, he has some reason to 
complain that the ancient name of Killrule ( Cello. Reguli) should 
have been superseded, even in favour of the tutelar saint of Scot- 
land. The reason of the change was, that St. Rule is said to have 
brought to Scotland the relics of Saint Andrew. 



Note T. 

The scenes are desert now, and bare, 
Where flourish' d once a forest fair.— V. 49. 

Ettrick Forest, now a range of mountainous sheep-walks, was 
anciently reserved for the pleasure of the royal chase. Since it was 
disparked, the wood has been, by degrees, almost totally destroyed, 
although, wherever protected from the sheep, copses soon arise 
without any planting. "When the King hunted there, he often 
summoned the aiTay of the country to meet and assist his sport. 
Thus in 1528, James V. '* made proclamation to all lords, barons, 
gentlemen, landward-men, and freeholders, that they should com- 
pear at Edinburgh, with a month's victuals, to pass with the King 
where he pleased, to danton the thieves of Tiviotdale, Annandale. 
Liddisdale, and other parts of that country ; and also warned all 
gentlemen that had good dogs to bring them, that he might hunt 
in the said country as he pleased : The whilk the Earl of Argyle, 
the Earl of Huntly, the Earl of Athole, and so all the rest of the 
gentlemen of the Highland, did, and brought their hounds with 
them in like manner, to hunt with the King, as he pleased. 

" The second day of June the King past out of Edinburgh to the 
hunting, with many of the nobles and gentlemen of Scotland with 
him, to the number of twelve thousand men ; and then past to 
Meggitland, and hounded and hawked all the country and bounds ; 
that is to say, Crammat, Pappert-law, St. Mary-laws, Carlavirick, 
Chapel, Ewindoores, and Langhope. I heard say, he slew, in these 
bounds, eighteen score of harts." 1 

These huntings had, of course, a military character, and attend- 
ance upon them was part of the duty of a vassal. The act for abo- 
lishing ward or military tenures in Scotland, enumerates the ser- 
vices of hunting, hosting, watching, and warding, as those which 
were in future to be illegal. 

1 Pitscottie's History of Scotland, folio edition, p. 143. 

S 



274 APPENDIX TO 

Taylor, the water-poet, has given an account of the mode in which 
these huntings were conducted in the Highlands of Scotland in the 
seventeenth century, having been present at Braemar upon such an 
occasion : — 

" There did I find the truly noble and right honourable lords, 
John Erskine, Earl of Mar ; James Stewart, Earl of Murray ; 
George Gordon, Earl of Engye, son and heir to the Marquis of 
Huntley ; James Erskine, Earl of Buchan ; and John, Lord 
Erskine, son and heir to the Earl of Mar, and their Countesses, 
with my much honoured, and my last assured and approved friend, 
Sir William Murray, knight of Abercarney, and hundreds of others, 
knights, esquires, and their followers ; all and every man, in gene- 
ral, in one habit, as if Lycurgus had been there, and made laws of 
equality ; for once in the year, which is the whole month of August, 
and sometimes part of September, many of the nobility and gentry 
of the kingdom (for their pleasure) do come into these Highland 
countries to hunt ; where they do conform themselves to the habit 
of the Highlandmen, who, for the most part, speak nothing but 
Irish ; and, in former time, were those people which were called 
the Bed-shanks. Their habit is — shoes, with but one sole a-piece ; 
stockings, (which they call short hose,) made of a warm stuff of 
diverse colours, which they call tartan ; as for breeches, many of 
them, nor their forefathers, never wore any, but a jerkin of the same 
stuff that their hose is of; their garters being bands or wreaths of 
hay or straw ; with a plaid about their shoulders ; which is a man- 
tle of diverse colours, much finer and lighter stuff than their hose ; 
with blue fiat caps on their heads ; a handkerchief, knit with two 
knots, about their necks : and thus are they attired. Now their 
weapons are — long bowes and forked arrows, swords and targets, 
harquebusses, muskets, durks, and Lochaber axes. With these 
arms I found many of them armed for the hunting. As for their 
attire, any man, of what degree soever, that comes amongst them, 
must not disdain to wear it ; for if they do, then they will disdain 
to hunt, or willingly to bring in their dogs ; but if men be kind 
unto them, and be in their habit, then are they conquered with 
kindness, and the sport will be plentiful. This was the reason that 
I found so many noblemen and gentlemen in those shapes. But to 
proceed to the hunting : — 

" My good Lord of Marr having put me into that shape, I rode 
with him from his house, where I saw the ruins of an old castle, 
called the Castle of Kindroghit. It was built by King Malcolm 
Canmore, (for a hunting-house,) who reigned In Scotland, when 
Edward the Confessor, Harold, and Norman William, reigned in 
England. I speak of it, because it was the last house I saw in those 
parts ; for I was the space of twelve days after, before I saw cither 



MARMION. 275 

house, corn-field, or habitation for any creature, hut deer, wild- 
horses, wolves, and such like creatures,- — which made me doubt 
that I should never have seen a house again. 

" Thus, the first day, we travelled eight miles, where there were 
small cottages, built on purpose to lodge in, which they call Lon- 
quhards. I thank my good Lord Erskine, he commanded that I 
should always be lodged in his lodging : the kitchen being always 
on the side of a bank : many kettles and pots boiling, and many 
spits turning and winding, with great variety of cheer, — as venison 
baked ; sodden, rost, and stewed beef ; mutton, goats, kid, hares, 
fresh salmon, pigeons, hens, capons, chickens, patridges, muir- 
coots, heath-cocks, caperkellies, and termagants ; good ale, sacke, 
white and claret, tent (or allegant), with most potent acquavitae. 

" All these, and more than these, we had continually in super- 
fluous abundance, caught by falconers, fowlers, fishers, and brought 
by my lord's tenants and purveyors to victual our camp, which con- 
sisteth of fourteen or fifteen hundred men and horses. The manner 
of the hunting is this : Five or six hundred men do rise early in the 
morning, and they do disperse themselves divers ways, and seven, 
eight, or ten miles compass, they do bring, or chase in, the deer in 
many herds, (two, three, or four hundred in a herd,) to such or 
such a place, as the noblemen shall appoint them ; then, when day 
is come, the lords and gentlemen of their companies do ride or go 
to the said places, sometimes wading up to the middles, through 
burns and rivers ; and then, they being come to the place, do lie 
down on the ground, till those foresaid scouts, which are called the 
Tinkhell, do bring down the deer ; but, as the proverb says of a bad 
cook, so these tinkhell men do lick their own fingers ; for, besides 
their bows and arrows, which they carry with them, we can hear, 
now and then, a harquebuss or a musket go off, which they do sel- 
dom discharge in vain. Then after we had staid there three hours, 
or thereabouts, we might perceive the deer appear on the hills round 
about us, (their heads making a show like a wood,) which, being 
followed close by the tinkhell, are chased down into the valley 
where we lay ; then all the valley, on each side, being way-laid, 
with a hundred couple of strong Irish greyhounds, they are all 
let loose, as occasion serves, upon the herd of deer, that with 
dogs, guns, arrows, durks, and daggers, in the space of two hours, 
fourscore fat deer were slain ; which after are disposed of, some one 
way, and some another, twenty and thirty miles, and more than 
enough left for us, to make merry withall, at our rendezvous." 



276 APPENDIX TO 

Note U. 

By lone Saint Mary's silent lake.— P. 54. 

This beautiful sheet of water forms the reservoir from which the 
Yarrow takes its source. It is connected with a smaller lake, call- 
ed the Loch of the Lowes, and surrounded by mountains. In the 
winter, it is still frequented by flights of wild swans ; hence my 
friend Mr Wordsworth's lines : — 

" The swan on sweet St. Mary's lake 
Floats double, swan and shadow." 

Near the lower extremity of the lake, are the ruins of Dryhope 
tower, the birth-place of Mary Scott, daughter of Philip Scott of 
Dryhope, and famous by the traditional name of the Flower of 
Yarrow. She was married to Walter Scott of Harden, no less 
renowned for his depredations, than his bride for her beauty. Her 
romantic appellation was, in latter days, with equal justice, con- 
ferred on Miss Mary Lilias Scott, the last of the elder branch of 
the Harden family. The author well remembers the talent and 
spirit of the latter Flower of Yarrow, though age had then injured 
the charms which procured her the name. The words usually sung 
to the air of " Tweedside," beginning, " What beauties does Flora 
disclose," were composed in her honour. 

Note V. 

For though, in feudal strife, a foe 

Hath laid Our Lady's chapel low.— P. 55. 

The chapel of St. Mary of the Lowes (de lacubus) was situated 
on the eastern side of the lake, to which it gives name. It was in- 
jured by the clan of Scott, in a feud with the Cranstouns ; but 
continued to be a place of worship during the seventeenth century. 
The vestiges of the building can now scarcely be traced ; but the 
burial ground is still used as a cemetery. A funeral, in a spot so 
very retired, has an uncommonly striking effect. The vestiges of 
the chaplain's house are yet visible. Being in a high situation, it 
commanded a full view of the lake, with the opposite mountain of 
Bourhope, belonging, with the lake itself, to Lord Napier. On the 
left hand is the tower of Dryhope, mentioned in a preceding note. 



MARMION. 277 

Note W. 

High Whitby's cloister 'a 'pile.— P. 60. 

The Abbey of Whitby, in the Archdeaconry of Cleaveland, on 
the coast of Yorkshire, was founded A. D. 657, in consequence 
of a vow of Oswy, King of Northumberland. It contained both 
monks and nuns of the Benedictine order ; but, contrary to what 
was usual in such establishments, the abbess was superior to the 
abbot. The monastery was afterwards ruined by the Danes, and 
rebuilded by William Percy, in the reign of the Conqueror. There 
were no nuns there in Henry the Eighth's time, nor long before 
it. The ruins of Whitby Abbey are very magnificent. 

Note X. 

St. Cuthberfs Holy Isle.— P. 60. 

Lindisfarne, an isle on the coast of Northumberland, was called 
Holy Island, from the sanctity of its ancient monastery, and from 
its having been the episcopal seat of the see of Durham during the 
early ages of British Christianity. A succession of holy men held 
that office : but their merits were swallowed up in the superior 
fame of St. Cuthbert, who was sixth bishop of Durham, and who 
bestowed the name of his " patrimony" upon the extensive pro- 
perty of the see. The ruins of the monastery upon Holy Island 
betoken great antiquity. The arches are, in general, strictly Saxon ; 
and the pillars which support them, short, strong, and massy. In 
some places, however, there are pointed windows, which indicate 
that the building has been repaired at a period long subsequent to 
the original foundation. The exterior ornaments of the building, 
being of a light sandy stone, have been wasted, as described in the 
text. Lindisfarne is not properly an island, but rather, as the 
venerable Bede has termed it, a semi-isle ; for, although surround- 
ed by the sea at full tide, the ebb leaves the sands dry between it 
and the opposite coast of Northumberland, from which it is about 
three miles distant. 

Note Y. 

Then Whitby's nuns exulting told, 
How to their house three Barons bold 
Must menial service do.— P. 68. 
The popular account of this curious service, which was probably 
considerably exaggerated, is thus given in "A True Account," 



278 APPENDIX TO 

printed and circulated at Whitby : " In the fifth year of the reign 
of Henry II., after the conquest of England by William, Duke of 
Normandy, the Lord of Uglebarnby, then called William de Bruce ; 
the Lord of Smeaton, called Ralph de Percy ; with a gentleman 
and freeholder called Allatson, did, on the 16th of October, 1159, 
appoint to meet and hunt the wild-boar, in a certain wood, or desert 
place, belonging to the Abbot of Whitby : the place's name was 
Eskdale-side ; and the abbot's name was Sedman. Then, these 
young gentlemen being met, with their hounds, and boar-staves, 
in the place before mentioned, and there having found a great wild- 
boar, the hounds ran him well near about the chapel and hermitage 
of Eskdale-side, where was a monk of Whitby, who was an hermit. 
The boar, being very sorely pursued, and dead run, took in at the 
chapel-door, there laid him down, and presently died. The hermit 
shut the hounds out of the chapel, and kept himself within at his 
meditations and prayers, the hounds standing at bay without. The 
gentlemen, in the thick of the wood, being just behind their game, 
followed the cry of their hounds, and so came to the hermitage, 
calling on the hermit, who opened the door, and came forth ; and 
within they found the boar lying dead : for which, the gentlemen, 
in a very great fury, because the hounds were put from their game, 
did most violently and cruelly run at the hermit with their boar- 
staves, whereby he soon after died. Thereupon the gentlemen, 
perceiving and knowing that they were in peril of death, took 
sanctuary at Scarborough : But at that time the abbot being in 
very great favour with the King, removed them out of the sanc- 
tuary ; whereby they came in danger of the law, and not to be 
privileged, but likely to have the severity of the law, which was 
death for death. But the hermit, being a holy and devout man, 
and at the point of death, sent for the abbot, and desired him to 
send for the gentlemen who had wounded him. The abbot so 
doing, the gentlemen came ; and the hermit, being very sick and 
Aveak, said unto them, ' I am sure to die of those wounds you have 
given me.' — The abbot answered, ' They shall as surely die for the 
same.' — But the hermit answered, ' Not so, for I will freely forgive 
them my death, if they will be content to be enjoined the penance 
I shall lay on them for the safeguard of their souls.' The gentle- 
men being present, bade him save their lives. — Then said the her- 
mit, ' You and yours shall hold your lands of the Abbot of Whitby, 
and his successors, in this manner : That, upon Ascension-day, 
you, or some of you, shall come to the wood of the Stray-heads, 
which is in Eskdale-side, the same day at sun-rising, and there 
shall the abbot's officer blow his horn, to the intent that you may 
know where to find him ; and he shall deliver unto you, William 
de Bruce, ten stakes, eleven strout stowers, and eleven yethers, to 



MARMION. 279 

be cut by you, or some of you, with a knife of one penny price : 
and you, Ralph de Percy, shall take twenty-one of each sort, to be 
cut in the same manner ; and you, Allatson, shall take nine of 
each sort, to be cut as aforesaid, and to be taken on your backs 
and carried to the town of Whitby, and to be there before nine of 
the clock the same day before mentioned. At the same hour of 
nine of the clock, if it be full sea, your labour and service shall 
cease ; and if low water, each of you shall set your stakes to the 
brim, each stake one yard from the other, and so y ether them on 
each side with your yethers ; and so stake on each side with your 
strout stowers, that they may stand three tides, without removing 
by the force thereof. Each of you shall do, make, and execute 
the said service, at that very hour, every year, except it be full 
sea at that hour ; but when it shall so fall out, this service shall 
cease. You shall faithfully do this, in remembrance that you did 
most cruelly slay me ; and that you may the better call to God for 
mercy, repent unfeignedly of your sins, and do good works. The 
officer of Eskdale-side shall blow, Out on you ! Out on you ! Out 
on you ! for this heinous crime. If you, or your successors, shall 
refuse this service, so long as it shall not be full sea at the aforesaid 
hour, you or yours, shall forfeit your lands to the Abbot of Whitby, 
or his successors. This I entreat, and earnestly beg, that you may 
have lives and goods preserved for this service : and I request of 
you to promise, by your parts in Heaven, that it shall be done by 
you and your successors, as is aforesaid requested ; and I will con- 
firm it by the faith of an honest man.'— Then the hermit said, 
' My soul longeth for the Lord : and I do as freely forgive these 
men my death, as Christ forgave the thieves on the cross.' And, 
in the presence of the abbot and the rest, he said moreover these 
words : ' In manus tuos Domine, commendo spiritum meum, a 
vinculis enim mortis redemisti me, Domine veritatis. Amen.' — So 
he yielded up the ghost the eighth day of December, anno Domini 
1159, whose soul God have mercy upon. Amen. 

"This service," it is added, "still continues to be performed 
with the prescribed ceremonies, though not by the proprietors in 
person. Part of the lands charged therewith are now held by a 
gentleman of the name of Herbert." 

Note Z. 

-Of thousand snakes, each one 



Was changed into a coil of stone, 
When holy Hilda pray'd ; 

How sea-fowls' pinions fail, 

As over Whitby's towers they sail.—V. 69. 
These two miracles are much insisted upon by all ancient wri- 



280 APPENDIX TO 

ters, who have occasion to mention either Whitby or St. Hilda. 
The relics of the snakes which infested the precincts of the con- 
vent, and were, at the abbess's prayer, not only beheaded, but 
petrified, are still found about the rocks, and are termed by Pro- 
testant fossilists, Ammonitoe. 

The other miracle is thus mentioned by Camden : " It is also 
ascribed to the power of her sanctity, that these wild geese, which, 
in the winter, fly in great flocks to the lakes and rivers unfrozen in 
the southern parts, to the great amazement of every one, fall down 
suddenly upon the ground, when they are in their flight over cer- 
tain neighbouring fields hereabouts : a relation I should not have 
made, if I had not received it from several credible men. But 
those who are less inclined to heed superstition, attribute it to some 
occult quality in the ground, and to somewhat of antipathy between 
it and the geese, such as they say is betwixt wolves and scyllaroots : 
For that such hidden tendencies and aversions, as we call sympa- 
thies and antipathies, are implanted in many things by provident 
Nature for the preservation of them, is a thing so evident, that 
every body grants it." Mr. Charlton, in his history of Whitby, 
points out the true origin of the fable, from the number of sea- 
gulls that, when flying from a storm, often alight near Whitby 
and from the woodcocks, and other birds of passage, who do the 
game upon their arrival on shore, after a long flight. 



Note 2 A. 

His body's resting-place, of old, 

How oft their patron changed, they told.— -P 69. 

St. Cuthbert was, in the choice of his sepulchre, one of the most 
mutable and unreasonable saints in the Calendar. He died a.d. 
688, in a hermitage upon the Fame Islands, having resigned the 
bishopric of Lindisfarne, or Holy Island, about two years before. 1 
His body was brought to Lindisfarne, where it remained until a 
descent of the Danes, about 793, when the monastery was nearly 
destroyed. The monks fled to Scotland, with what they deemed 
their chief treasure, the relics of St. Cuthbert. The Saint was, 
however, a most capricious fellow-traveller ; which was the more 
intolerable, as, like Sinbad's Old Man of the Sea, he journeyed 
upon the shoulders of his companions. They paraded him through 

1 [He resumed the bishopric of Lindisfarne, which, owing to bad 
health, he again relinquished within less than three months before 
his death.— Raine's St. Cuthbert. 1 



MA.RMION*. 281 

Scotland for several years, and came as far west as Whithorn, in 
Galloway, whence they attempted to sail for Ireland, but were 
driven back by tempests. He at length made a halt at Norham ; 
from thence he went to Melrose, where he remained stationary for 
a short time, and then caused himself to be launched upon the 
Tweed in a stone coffin, which landed him at Tilmouth, in North- 
umberland. This boat is finely shaped, ten feet long, three feet 
and a half in diameter, and only four inches thick ; so that, with 
very little assistance, it might certainly have swam : It still lies, or 
at least did so a few years ago, in two pieces, beside the ruined 
chapel of Tilmouth. From Tilmouth, Cuthbert wandered into 
Yorkshire ; and at length made a long stay at Chester-le-street, 
to which the bishop's see was transferred. At length, the Danes 
continuing to infest the country, the monks removed to Rippon for 
a season ; and it was in return from thence to Chester-le-street, 
that, passing through a forest called Dunholme, the Saint and his 
carriage became immovable at a place named Wardlaw, or War- 
dilaw. Here the Saint chose his place of residence ; and all who 
have seen Durham must admit, that, if difficult in his choice, he 
evinced taste in at last fixing it. It is said, that the Northumbrian 
Catholics still keep secret the precise spot of the Saint's sepulture, 
which is only intrusted to three persons at a time. When one dies, 
the survivors associate to them, in his room, a person judged fit to 
be the depositary of so valuable a secret. 

[The resting-place of the remains of this Saint is not now matter 
of uncertainty. So recently as 17th May, 1827,-1139 years after his 
death, their discovery and disinterment were effected. Under 
a blue stone, in the middle of the shrine of St. Cuthbert, at the 
eastern extremity of the choir of Durham Cathedral, there was 
then found a walled grave, containing the coffins of the Saint. The 
first, or outer one, was ascertained to be that of 1541, the second 
of 1041 ; the third, or inner one, answering in every particular to 
the description of that of 698, was found to contain, not indeed, as 
had been averred then, and even until 1539, the incorruptible 
body, but the entire skeleton of the Saint ; the bottom of the grave 
being perfectly dry, free from offensive smell, and without the 
slightest symptom that a human body had ever undergone decom- 
position within its walls. The skeleton was found swathed in five 
silk robes of emblematical embroidery, the ornamental parts laid 
with gold leaf, and these again covered with a robe of linen. Be- 
side the skeleton were also deposited several gold and silver insig- 
nia, and other relics of the Saint. 

(The Roman Catholics now allow that the coffin was that of St. 
Cuthbert.) 

The bones of the Saint were again restored to the grave in a new 



282 APPENDIX TO 

coffin, amid the fragments of the former ones. Those portions of 
the inner coffin which could be preserved, including one of its rings, 
with the silver altar, golden cross, stole, comb, two maniples, 
bracelets, girdle, gold wire of the skeleton, and fragments of the 
five silk robes, and some of the rings of the outer coffin made in 
1541, were deposited in the library of the Dean and Chapter, where 
they are now preserved. 

For ample details of the life of St. Cuthbert, — his coffin-journeys, 
— an account of the opening of his tomb, and a description of the 
silk robes and other relics found in it, the reader interested in such 
matters is referred to a work entitled " Saint Cuthbert, by James 
Raiue, M.A.," (4to, Durham, 1828,) where he will find much of 
antiquarian history, ceremonies, and superstitions, to gratify his 
curiosity.— Ed.] 



Note 2 B. 

Even Scotland's dauntless king, and heir, 

Before his standard fled. 
*Twas he, to vindicate his reign, 
Edged Alfred's falchion on the Dane, 
And tum'd the Conqueror back again. — P. 70. 

Every one has heard, that when David I., with his son Henry, 
invaded Northumberland in 1136, the English host marched against 
them under the holy banner of St. Cuthbert ; to the efficacy of 
which was imputed the great victory which they obtained in the 
bloody battle of Northallerton, or Cuton-moor. The conquerors 
were at least as much indebted to the jealousy and intractibility 
of the different tribes who composed David's army ; among whom, 
as mentioned in the text, were the Galwegians, the Britons of 
Strath-Clyde, the men of Teviotdale and Lothian, with many Nor- 
man and German warriors, who asserted the cause of the Empress 
Maud. See Chalmers' Caledonia, vol. i. p. 622; a most labori- 
ous, curious, and interesting publication, from which considerable 
defects of style and manner ought not to turn aside the Scottish 
antiquary. 

Cuthbert, we have seen, had no great reason to spare the Danes, 
when opportunity offered. Accordingly, I find in Simeon of Dur- 
ham, that the Saint appeared in a vision to Alfred, when lurking 
in the marshes of Glastonbury, and promised him assistance and 
victory over his heathen enemies; a consolation, which, a* was 
reasonable, Alfred, after the battle of Ashendown, rewarded, by 
a royal offering at the shrine of the Saint. As to William the Con- 



MARMIOX. 283 

queror, the terror spread before his army, when he marched to 
punish the revolt of the Northumbrians, in 1096, had forced the 
monks to fly once more to Holy Island with the body of the Saint. 
It was, however, replaced before William left the north ; and, to 
balance accounts, the Conqueror having intimated an indiscreet 
curiosity to view the Saint's body, he was, while in the act of com- 
manding the shrine to be opened, seized with heat and sickness, 
accompanied with such a panic terror, that, notwithstanding there 
was a sumptuous dinner prepared for him, he fled without eating 
a morsel, (which the monkish historian seems to have thought no 
small part both of the miracle and the penance, ) and never drew 
his bridle till he got to the river Tees. 



Note 2 C. 

Saint Cuthbert sits, and toils to frame 

The sea-born beads, that bear his name. — P. 70. 

Although we do not learn that Cuthbert was, during his life, such 
an artificer as Dunstan, his brother in sanctity, yet, since his death, 
he has acquired the reputation of forging those Entrochi which are 
found among the rocks of Holy Island, and pass there by the name 
of St. Cuthbert's Beads. While at this task, he is supposed to sit 
during the night upon a certain rock, and use another as his an- 
vil. This story was perhaps credited in former days ; at least the 
Saint's legend contains some not more probable. 



Note 2 D. 

Old Colwulf.— V. 71. 

Coolwulf, or Colwulf, King of Northumberland, flourished in 
the eighth century. He was a man of some learning ; for the ve- 
nerable Bede dedicates to him his " Ecclesiastical History." He 
abdicated the throne about 738, and retired to Holy Island, where 
he died in the odour of sanctity. Saint as Colwulf was, however, 
I fear the foundation of the penance-vault does not correspond with 
his character ; for it is recorded among his memorabilia, that, find- 
ing the air of the island raw and cold, he indulged the monks, 
whose rule had hitherto confined them to milk and water, with the 
comfortable privilege of using wine and ale. If any rigid antiquary 
insists on this objection, he is welcome to suppose the penance- 



284 APPENDIX TO 

vault was intended by the founder for the more genial purpose* 
of a cellar. 

These penitential vaults were the Gcissel-geivblhe of German 
convents. In the earlier and more rigid times of monastic disci- 
pline, they were sometimes used as a cemetery for the lay benefac- 
tors of the convent, whose unsanctified corpses were then seldom 
permitted to pollute the choir. They also served as places of meet- 
ing for the chapter, when measures of uncommon severity were to 
be adopted. But their most frequent use, as implied by the name, 
was as places for performing penances, or undergoing punishment, 



Note 2 E. 

Tynemouth's haughty Prioress.— 1?. 73. 

That there was an ancient priory at Tynemouth is certain. Its 
ruins are situated on a high rocky point ; and, doubtless, many a 
vow was made to the shrine by the distressed mariners, who drove 
towards the iron-bound coast of Northumberland in stormy wea- 
ther. It was anciently a nunnery ; for Virca, abbess of Tynemouth, 
presented St. Cuthbert (yet alive) with a rare winding-sheet, in 
emulation of a holy lady called Tuda, who had sent him a coffin : 
But, as in the case of Whitby, and of Holy Island, the introduc- 
tion of nuns at Tynemouth, in the reign of Henry VIII., is an 
anachronism. The nunnery of Holy Island is altogether fictitious. 
Indeed, St. Cuthbert was unlikely to permit such an establishment ; 
for, notwithstanding his accepting the mortuary gifts above men- 
tioned, and his carrying on a visiting acquaintance with the abbess 
of Coldingham, he certainly hated the whole female sex ; and. in 
revenge of a slippery trick played to him by an Irish princess, he, 
after death, inflicted severe penances on such as presumed to ap- 
proach within a certain distance of his shrine. 



Note 2 F. 

The village inn.—Y. 96. 

The accommodations of a Scottish hostelric, or inn, in the six- 
teenth century, may be collected from Dunbar's admirable tale of 
" The Friars of Berwick." Simon Lawder, " the gay ostlier," 
seems to have lived very comfortably; and his wife decorated her 
person with a scarlet kirtlc, and a belt of silk and silver, and rings 
upon her fingers ;. and feasted her paramour with rabbits, capons, 



MARMION. 285 

partridges, and Bourdeaux wine. At least, if the Scottish inns 
were not good, it was not from want of encouragement from the 
legislature ; who, so early as the reign of James I., not only enacted, 
that in all boroughs and fairs there he hostellaries, having stables 
and chambers, and provision for man and horse, but by another 
statute, ordained that no man, travelling on horse or foot, should 
presume to lodge any where except in these hostellaries ; and that 
no person, save innkeepers, should receive such travellers, under 
the penalty of forty shillings, for exercising such hospitality. But, 
in spite of these provident enactments, the Scottish hostels are but 
indifferent, and strangers continue to find reception in the houses 
of individuals. 



Note 2 G. 

The Goblin- Hall— P. 107- 

A vaulted hall under the ancient castle of Gifford, or Yester, 
(for it bears either name indifferently,) the construction of whicn 
has, from a very remote period, been ascribed to magic. The Sta- 
tistical Account of the Parish of Garvald and Baro, gives the fol- 
lowing account of the present state of this castle and apartment : — 
" Upon a peninsula, formed by the water of Hopes on the east, 
and a large rivulet on the west, stands the ancient castle of Yester. 
Sir David Dalrymple, in his annals, relates, that ' Hugh Gifford 
de Yester died in 1267 ; that in his castle there was a capacious 
cavern, formed by magical art, and called in the country Bo-Hall, 
i.e. Hobgoblin Hall.' A stair of twenty-four steps led down to this 
apartment, which is a large and spacious hall, with an arched 
roof ; and though it hath stood for so many centuries, and been 
exposed to the external air for a period of fifty or sixty years, it is 
still as firm and entire as if it had only stood a few years. From 
the floor of this hall, another stair of thirty-six steps leads down 
to a pit which hath a communication with Hopes- water. A great 
part of the walls of this large and ancient castle are still standing. 
There is a tradition, that the castle of Yester was the last fortifica- 
tion, in this country, that surrendered to General Gray, sent into 
Scotland by Protector Somerset. — Statistical Account, vol. xiii. 
I have only to add, that, in 1737, the Goblin Hall was tenanted by 
the Marquis of Tweedale's falconer, as I learn from a poem by 
Boyse, entitled " Retirement," written upon visiting Yester. It is 
now rendered inaccessible by the fall of the stair. 

Sir David Dalrymple's authority for the anecdote is in Fordun, 
whose words are,—" A. D. mcclxvii. Hugo Giffard de Yester 



286 



APPENDIX TO 



moritur ; cujus castrum, vel saltern caveam, et dongionem, arte 
dcemonicd antiques ■ relatione* feruntfabr nj -actas : nam ibidem habetur 
mirabilis specus subterraneus, opere mirifico constructus, mag no 
Urrarum spatio protelatus, qui communiter Bo-Hall appellatus 
est." Lib. X. cap. 21.— Sir David conjectures, that Hugh de Gifford 
must either have been a very wise man, or a great oppressor. 



Note 2 H. 

Yet still the knightly spear and shield 
The Elfin Warrior doth ivield 

Upon the brown hill's breast. — P. 114. 

The following extract from the Essay upon the Fairy Supersti- 
tious, in the " Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," vol. ii., will 
show whence many of the particulars of the combat between Alex- 
ander III. and the Goblin knight are derived : — 

Gervase of Tilbury (Otia Imperial ap. Script, rer. Bricnsvic. vol. 
i. p. 797) relates the following popular story concerning a fairy 
knight : " Osbert, a bold and powerful baron, visited a noble 
family in the vicinity of Wandlebury, in the bishoprick of Ely. 
Among other stories related in the social circle of his friends, who, 
according to custom, amused each other by repeating ancient tales 
and traditions, he was informed, that if any knight, unattended, 
entered an adjacent plain by moonlight, and challenged an adversary 
to appear, he would be immediately encountered by a spirit in the 
form of a knight. Osbert resolved to make the experiment, and 
set out, attended by a single squire, whom he ordered to remain 
without the limits of the plain, which was surrounded by an ancient 
intrenchment. On repeating the challenge, he was instantly 
assailed by an adversary, whom he quickly unhorsed, and seized 
the reins of his steed. During this operation, his ghostly opponent 
sprung up, and darting his spear, like a javelin, at Osbert, wounded 
him in the thigh. Osbert returned in triumph with the horse, which 
he committed to the care of his servants. The horse was of a sable 
colour, as well as his whole accoutrements, and apparently of great 
beauty and vigour. He remained with his keeper till cock-crow- 
ing, when, with eyes flashing fire, he reared, spurned the ground, 
and vanished. On disarming himself, Osbert perceived that he 
was wounded, and that one of his steel boots was full of blood." 
Gervase adds, that, " as long as he lived, the scar of his wound 
opened afresh on the anniversary of the eve on which he encoun- 
tered the spirit." Less fortunate was the gallant Bohemian knight, 
who, travelling by night with a single companion, "came in sight 



MARMION. 287 

of a fairy host, arrayed under displayed banners. Despising the 
remonstrances of his friend, the knight pricked forward to break a 
lance with a champion, who advanced from the ranks apparently 
in defiance. His companion beheld the Bohemian overthrown, 
horse and man, by his aerial adversary ; and returning to the spot 
next morning, he found the mangled corpses of the knight and 
steed."— Hierarchy of Blessed Angels, p. 554. 

Besides these instances of Elfin chivalry above quoted, many 
others might be alleged in support of employing fairy machinery in 
this manner. The forest of Glenmore, in the North Highlands, 
is believed to be haunted by a spirit called Lham-dearg, in the 
array of an ancient warrior, having a bloody hand, from which he 
takes his name. He insists upon those with whom he meets doing 
battle with him ; and the clergyman, who makes up an account of 
the district, extant in the Macfarlane MS., in the Advocates Li- 
brary, gravely assures us, that, in his time, Lham-dearg fought with 
three brothers whom he met in his walk, none of whom long sur- 
vived the ghostly conflict. Barclay, in his " Euphormion," gives a 
singular account of an officer who had ventured, with his servant, 
rather to intrude upon a haunted house, in a town in Flanders, 
than to put up with worse quarters elsewhere. After taking the 
usual precautions of providing fires, lights, and arms, they watched 
till midnight, when, behold ! the severed arm of a man dropped 
from the ceiling ; this was followed by the legs, the other arm, the 
trunk, and the head of the body, all separately. The members 
rolled together, united themselves in the presence of the aston- 
ished soldiers, and formed a gigantic warrior, who defied them 
both to combat. Their blows, although they penetrated the body, 
and amputated the limbs, of their strange antagonist, had, as the 
reader may easily believe, little effect on an enemy who possessed 
such powers of self-union ; nor did his efforts make more effectual 
impression upon them. How the combat terminated I do not ex- 
actly remember, and have not the book by me ; but I think the 
spirit made to the intruders on his mansion the usual proposal, 
that they should renounce their redemption ; which being declined, 
he was obliged to retreat. 

The most singular tale of this kind is contained in an extract 
communicated to me by my friend Mr. Surtees of Mainsfoith, in 
the Bishopric, who copied it from a MS. note in a copy of Bur- 
thogge " On the Nature of Spirits," 8vo. 1694, which had been 
the property of the late Mr. Gill, attorney-general to Egerton, 
Bishop of Durham. " It was not," says my obliging correspondent, 
" in Mr. Gill's own hand, but probably an hundred years older, 
and was said to be, E libro Convent. Dunelm. per T. C. extract, 
whom I believe to have been Thomas Cradocke, Esq. barrister, 



288 APPENDIX TO 

who held several offices under the See of Durham a hundred years 
ago. Mr. Gill was possessed of most of his manuscripts." The 
extract, which, in fact, suggested the introduction of the tale into 
the present poem, runs thus : — ■ 

" Bern miram hujusmodi quce nostris temporibus evenit, teste 
viro nobili ac fide dignissimo, enarrare haud pigebit. Badidphus 
Buhner, cum e castris, quce tunc temporis prope Norham posita 
erant, oblectationis causa, exiisset, ac in idteriore Tuedce ripd 
prcedam cum canibus leporariis insequeretur, forte cum Scoto quo- 
dam nobili, sibi antehac, tit videbatur, familiariter cognito, con- 
gressus est ; ac, ut fas erat inter inimicos, flagrante bello, brevis- 
simd interrogationis mord interpositd, alterutros invicem incitato 
cursu infestis animis petiere. Noster, primo occursu, equo prce- 
acerrimo hostis impetu labante, in terrain eversus pectore et capite 
Iceso, sanguinem, mortuo similis, tvomebat. Quern ut se cegre na- 
bentem comiter allocutus est alter, pollicitusque, modo auxilium nan 
abnegaret, monitisque obtemperans ab omni rerum sacrarum cogi- 
tatione abstineret, nee Deo, Deiparce Virgini, Sanctove ullo, preces 
autvota efferret vel inter sese conciperet, se brevi eum sanum valid- 
umque restituturum esse. Prce angore oblata conditio accepta est ; 
ac velerator ille nescio quid obscoeni murmuris insusurrans, prehensa 
manu, dicto citius in pedes sanum ut antea sublevavit. Noster autem, 
maxima prce rei inauditd novilate formidine perculsus, Mi Jesv ! 
exclamat, vel quid simile ; ac subito respiciens nee hostem nee ullum 
alium conspicit, equum solum gravissimo nuper casu affliction, per 
summam pacem in rivofluvii pascentem. Ad castra itaque mira- 
bundus revertens, fidei dubius, rem prima occultavit, dein, confecto 
hello, Confessori suo totam asseruit. Delusoria procul dubio res tota, 
acmalaveteratorisilliusaperiturfraus, quahominem Christianum ad 
vetitum tale auxilium pelliceret. Nomen utcunque illius (nobilis alias 
acclari) reticendum duco, cum haud dubium sit quin Diabolus, Deo 
pcrmltlente, formam quam libuerit, immo angeli lucis sacro oculo 
Dei teste, posse assumcrc." The MS. chronicle, from which Mr. 
Cradocke took this curious extract, cannot iioav he found in the 
Chapter Library of Durham, or, at least, has hitherto escaped the 
researches of my friendly correspondent. 

Lindesay is made to allude to this adventure of Ralph Bulmer, 
as a well-known story, in the 4th Canto, Stanza xxii. p. 145. 

The northern champions of old were accustomed peculiarly to 
search for, and delight in, encounters with such military spectres. 
See a whole chapter on the subject, in Bartholinus De Causis 
contemptoe Mortis a Danis, p. 253. 



289 



Note 2 I. 

Sir David Lindesay of the Mount, 
Lord Lion King-at-arms.—V. 134. 

The late elaborate edition of Sir David Lindesay's Works, bv 
Mr. George Chalmers, has probably introduced him to many of my 
readers. It is perhaps to be regretted, that the learned editor had 
not bestowed more pains in elucidating his author, even although 
he should have omitted, or at least reserved, his disquisitions on 
the origin of the language used by the poet ;i But, with all its 
faults, his work is an acceptable present to Scottish antiquaries. 
Sir David Lindesay was well known for his early efforts in favour 
of the reformed doctrines ; and, indeed, his play, coarse as it now 
seems, must have had a powerful effect upon the people of his age. 
I am uncertain if I abuse poetical license, by introducing Sir David 
Lindesay in the character of Lion-Herald, sixteen years before he 
obtained that office. At any rate, I am not the first who has been 
guilty of the anachronism ; for the author of " Flodden Field" des- 

1 I beg leave to quote a single instance from a very interesting 
passage. Sir David, recounting his attention to King James V. in 
his infancy, is made, by the learned editor's punctuation, to say, — 

" The first sillabis, that thou did mute, 
Was pa, da, lyn, upon the lute ; 
Then played I twenty springis perqueir, 
Quhilk was great plesour for to hear." 

Vol. i. p. 7- 257- 

Mr. Chalmers does not inform us, by note or glossary, what is 
meant by the King " muting pa, da, lyn, upon the lute /' but any 
old woman in Scotland will bear witness, that pa, da, lyn, are the 
first efforts of a child to say, " Share's David Lindesay?" 1 and 
that the subsequent words begin another sentence — 

" Upon the lute 

Then played I twenty springis perqueir," &c. 

In another place, " justing lumis," i. e. looms, or implements of 
tilting, is facetiously interpreted " playful limbs." Many such 
minute errors could be pointed out ; but these are only mentioned 
incidentally, and not as diminishing the real merit of the edition, 

i [It is suggested by an ingenious correspondent, that Pa, da, 
lyn, ought rather to be interpreted, play, Davy Lindesay.^ 
T 



590 APPENDIX TO 

patches Dallamount, which can mean nobody but Sir David de la 
Mont, to France, on the message of defiance from James IV. to 
Henry VIII. It was often an office imposed on the Lion King-at- 
arms, to receive foreign ambassadors ; and Lindesay himself did 
this honour to Sir Ralph Sadler, in 1539-40. Indeed, the oath of 
the Lion, in its first article, bears reference to his frequent employ- 
ment upon royal messages and embassies. 

The office of heralds, in feudal times, being held of the utmost 
importance, the inauguration of the Kings-at-arms, who presided 
over their colleges, was proportionally solemn. In fact, it was the 
mimicry of a royal coronation, except that the unction was made 
with wine instead oil. In Scotland, a namesake and kinsman of 
Sir David Lindesay, inaugurated in 1592, " was crowned by King 
James with the ancient crown of Scotland, which was used before 
the Scottish Kings assumed a close Crown ; " and, on occasion of 
the same solemnity, dined at the King's table, wearing the crown. 
It is probable that the coronation of his predecessor was not less 
solemn. So sacred was the herald's office, that, in 1515, Lord 
Drummond was by Parliament declared guilty of treason, and his 
lands forfeited, because he had struck, with his fist, the Lion King- 
at-arms, when he reproved him for his follies. 1 Nor was he resto- 
red, but at the Lion's earnest solicitation. 



Note 2 K. 

Crichtoim Castle.— V. 135. 

A large ruinous castle on the banks of the Tyne, about ten miles 
from Edinburgh. As indicated in the text, it was built at different 
times, and with a very differing regard to splendour and accommo- 
dation. The oldest part of the building is a narrow keep, or tower, 
such as formed the mansion of a lesser Scottish baron : but so many 
additions have been made to it, that there is now a large court- 
yard, surrounded by buildiiigs of different ages. The eastern front 
of the court is raised above a portico, and decorated with entabla- 
tures, bearing anchors. All the stones of this front are cut into 
diamond facets, the angular projections of which have an uncom- 
monly rich appearance. The inside of this part of the building 

1 The record expresses, or rather is said to have expressed, the 
cause of forfeiture to be,—" Eo quod Lconcm, anvorum Rtgetn 
pugno violasset dum cum de ineptiis mis admoneL" See Nisbei's 
Heraldry, Part iv. chap. xvi. ; and Lesi.ei Historic ad Annum 
1515. 



MARMION. "291 

appears to have contained a gallery of great length, and uncom- 
mon elegance. Access was given to it by a magnificent stair-case, 
now quite destroyed. The soffits are ornamented with twining 
cordage and rosettes : and the whole seems to have been far more 
splendid than was usual in Scottish castles. The castle belonged 
originally to the Chancellor, Sir William Crichton, and probably 
owed to him its first enlargement, as well as its being taken by the 
Earl of Douglas, who imputed to Crichton's counsels the death of 
his predecessor, Earl William, beheaded in Edinburgh Castle, with 
his brother, in 1410. It is said to have been totally demolished 
on that occasion ; but the present state of the ruin shows the 
contrary. In 1483, it was garrisoned by Lord Crichton, then its 
proprietor, against King James III., whose displeasure he had 
incurred by seducing his sister Margaret, in revenge, it is said, for 
the Monarch having dishonoured his bed. From the Crichton fa- 
mily the castle passed to that of the Hepburns, Earls Bothwell : 
and when the forfeitures of Stewart, the last Earl Bothwell, were 
divided, the barony and castle of Crichton fell to the share of the 
Earl of Buccleuch. They were afterwards the property of the 
Pringles of Clifton, and are now that of Sir John Callander, Baro- 
net. It were to be wished the proprietor would take a little pains 
to preserve those splendid remains of antiquity, which are at pre- 
sent used as a fold for sheep, and wintering cattle ; although, per- 
haps, there are very few ruins in Scotland which display so well 
the style and beauty of castle-architecture. 

Note 2 L. 

The darkness of thy Massy-More.— Y . 137. 

The castle of Crichton has a dungeon vault, called the Massy 
More. The epithet, which is not uncommonly applied to the pri- 
sons of other old castles in Scotland, is of Saracenic origin. It 
occurs twice in the " Epistolce Itinerarke" of Tollius. " Career 
subterraneus, sive, ut Mauri appellant, Mazmorra," p. 147 ; and 
again, " Coguntur omnes Captivi sub noctem in ergastula subterra- 
nea, quce TurccR Algezerani vocant Mazmorras," p. 243. The same 
word applies to the dungeons of the ancient Moorish castles in 
Spain, and serves to show from what nation the Gothic style of castle 
building was originally derived. 1 

1 [" In Scotland, formerly, as still in some parts of Greece, the 
great chieftains required, as an acknowledgment of their autho- 
rity, that those who passed through their lands should repair to 
their castle, to explain the purpose of their journey, and receive 



232 



APPENDIX TO 



Note 2 M. 



For that a messenger from heaven, 
In vain to James had counsel given 
Against the English war.— P. 139. 

This story is told by Pitscottie with characteristic simplicity :— 
'•' The King, seeing that France could get no support of him for that 
time, made a proclamation, full hastily, through all the realm of 
Scotland, both east and -west, south and north, as well in the isles 
as in the firm land, to all manner of men between sixty and sixteen 
years, that they should be ready, within twenty days, to pass with 
him, with forty days' victual, and to meet at Burro wmuir of Edin- 
burgh, and there to pass forward where he pleased. His proclama- 
tions were hastily obeyed, contrary to the Council of Scotland's 
will ; but every man loved his prince so well, that they would on 
no ways disobey him ; but every man caused make his proclamation 
so hastily, conform to the charge of the King's proclamation. 

the hospitality suited to their rank. To neglect this was held dis- 
courtesy in the great, and insolence in the inferior traveller ; and 
so strictly was the etiquette insisted on by some feudal lords, that 
Lord Oliphant is said to have planted guns at his castle of Newtyle 
in Angus, so as to command the high-road, and compel all restive 
passengers to do this act of homage. 

" It chanced when such ideas were predominant, that the Lord 
of Crichton Castle received intelligence that a Southern chieftain 
of high rank, some say Scott of Buccleuch, was to pass his dwelling 
on his return from court. The Lord Crichton made great prepara- 
tion to banquet his expected guest, who nevertheless rode past the 
castle -without paying the expected visit. In his first burst of in- 
dignation, the Baron pursued the discourteous traveller with a body 
of horse, made him prisoner, and confined him in the dungeon, 
while he himself and his va&sals feasted upon the good cheer which 
had been provided. With the morning, however, came reflection, 
and anxiety for the desperate feud which impended, as the neces- 
sary consequence of his rough proceeding. It is said, that, by way 
of amende honorable, the Baron, upon the second day, placed his. 
compelled guest in his seat of honour in the hall, while he himself 
retired into his own dungeon, and thus did at once penance for his 
rashness, satisfied the honour of the stranger chief, and put a stop 
to the feud which must otherwise have taken place between them."' 
—Sir Walter Scott's Provincial Antiquities, vol. i. p. 25-4— 
Prose Works, vol. vii. p. 192. ] 



MARMION. 293 

" The King came to Lithgow, where he happened to he for the 
time at the Council, very sad and dolorous, making his devotion 
to God, to send him good chance and fortune in his voyage. In 
this meantime, there came a man, clad in a blue gown, in at the 
kirk door, and belted about him in a roll of linen-cloth ; a pair of 
brotikings 1 on his feet, to the great of his legs ; with all other 
hose and clothes conform thereto ; but he had nothing on his head, 
but syde 2 red yellow hair behind, and on his haffets, 3 which wan 
down to his shoulders ; but his forehead was bald and bare. He 
seemed to be a man of two-and-fifty years, with a great pike-staff 
in his hand, and came first forward among the lords, crying and 
speiring 4 for the King, saying, he desired to speak with him. 
While, at the last, he came where the King was sitting in the desk, 
at his prayers ; but when he saw the King, he made him little 
reverence or salutation, but leaned down grofning on the desk 
before him, and said to him in this manner, as after follows : ' Sir 
King, my mother hath sent me to you, desiring you not to pass, at 
this time, where thou art purposed ; for if thou does, thou wilt not 
fare well in thy journey, nor none that passeth with thee. Further, 
she bade thee mell 5 with no woman, nor use their counsel, nor let 
them touch thy body, nor thou theirs ; for, if thou do it, thou wilt 
be confounded and brought to shame.' 

" By this man had spoken thir words unto the King's grace, the 
evening-song was near done, and the King paused on thir words, 
studying to give him an answer ; but, in the meantime, before the 
King's eyes, and in the presence of all the lords that were about 
him for the time, this man vanished away, and could no ways be 
seen nor comprehended, but vanished away as he had been a blink 
of the sun, or a whip of the whirlwind, and could no more be seen. 
I heard say, Sir David Lindesay, Lyon-herauld, and John Inglis 
the marshal, who were, at that time, young men, and special ser- 
vants to the King's grace, were standing presently beside the King, 
who thought to have laid hands on this man, that they might have 
speired further tidings at him : But all for nought ; they could not 
touch him ; for he vanished away betwixt them, and was no more 
seen." 

Buchanan, in more elegant, though not more impressive lan- 
guage, tells the same story, and quotes the personal information of 
our Sir David Lindesay : " In Us, (i. e. quipropius astiterant) fait 
David Lindesius, Montanus, homo speclatce fidei et probitatis, nee a 
literarum studiis alienus, et cujus totias vitoe tenor longissime a 
mentiendo aberrat ; a quo nisi ego licec utx tradidi, pro certis accep- 
issem, ut vulgatam vanis rumoribus fabulum omissurus eram"— 

1 Buskins. 2 Long. 3 Cheeks. 4 Asking. 5 Meddle. 



204- APPENDIX TO 

Lib. xiii. The King's throne, in St. Catherine's aisle, -which he 
had constructed for himself, with twelve stalls for the Knights 
Companions of the Order of the Thistle, is still shown as the place 
where the apparition was seen. I know not by what means St. 
Andrew got the credit of having been the celebrated monitor of 
James IV. ; for the expression in Lindesay's narrative, "My 
mother has sent me," could only be used by St. John, the adopted 
son of the Virgin Mary. The whole story is so well attested, that 
we have only the choice between a miracle or an imposture. Mr. 
Pinkerton plausibly argues, from the caution against incontinence, 
that the Queen was privy to the scheme of those who had recourse 
to this expedient, to deter King James from his impolitic war. 



Note 2 N. 

Gf all the palaces so fair, 

Built for the royal dwelling, 
In Scotland, far beyond compare 

Linlithgow is excelling.— IP. 139. 

£ln Scotland there are about twenty palaces, castles, and re- 
mains, or sites of such, 

" Where Scotia's kings of other years" 

had their royal home. 

" Linlithgow, distinguished by the combined strength and beauty 
of its situation, must have been early selected as a royal residence. 
David, who bought the title of saint by his liberality to the church, 
refers several of his charters to his town of Linlithgow ; and in that 
of Holyrood expressly bestows on the new monastery all the skins 
of the rams, ewes, and lambs, belonging to his castle of Linlitcu, 

which shall die during the year The convenience afforded 

for the sport of falconry, which was so great a favourite during the 
feudal ages, was probably one cause of the attachment of the an- 
cient Scottish monarchs to Linlithgow and its fine lake. The sport 
of hunting was also followed with success in the neighbourhood, 
from which circumstance it probably arises that the ancient arms 
of the city represent a black greyhound bitch tied to a tree .... 
The situation of Linlithgow Palace is eminently beautiful. It 
stands on a promontory of some elevation, which advances almost 
into the midst of the lake. The form is that of a square court, 
composed of buildings of four storeys high, with towers at the 
angles. The fronts within the square, and the windows, arc highly 
ornamented, and the size of the rooms, as well as the width and 
character of the staircases, are upon a magnificent scale. One ban- 



MARMION. 295 

quet-room is ninety-four feet long, thirty feet "wide, and thirty- 
three feet high, with a gallery for music. The king's wardrobe, or 
dressing-room, looking to the west, projects over the Avails, so as to 
have a delicious prospect on three sides, and is one of the most en- 
viable boudoirs we have ever seen." — Sir Walter Scott's Pro- 
vincial Antiquities.— Prose Works, vol. vii. p. 382.] 

Note 2 O. 

June saw Ms father's overthrow. — P. 139. 

The rebellion against James III. was signalized by the cruel cir- 
cumstance of his son's presence in the hostile army. When the 
King saw his own banner displayed against him, and his son in the 
faction of his enemies, he lost the little courage he had ever pos- 
sessed, fled out of the field, fell from his horse as it started at a 
woman and water-pitcher, and was slain, it was not well understood 
by whom. James IV., after the battle, passed to Stirling, and 
hearing the monks of the chapel-royal deploring the death of his 
father, their founder, he was seized with deep remorse, which 
manifested itself in severe penances. See a following Note [2 U 
p. 298,] on stanza ix. of canto v. The battle of Sauchie-burn, in 
which James III. fell, was fought 18th June, 1483. 



Note 2 P. 

Spread all tJie Borough-moor below. — P. 143. 

The Borough, or Common Moor of Edinburgh, was of very great 
extent, reaching from the southern walls of the city to the bottom 
of Braid Hills. It was anciently a forest ; and, in that state, was 
so great a nuisance, that the inhabitants of Edinburgh had permis- 
sion granted to them of building wooden galleries, projecting over 
the street, in order to encourage them to consume the timber ; 
which they seem to have done very effectually. When James IV. 
mustered the array of the kingdom there, in 1513, the Borough- 
moor was, according to Hawthornden, " a field spacious, and de- 
lightful by the shade of many stately and aged oaks." Upon that, 
and similar occasions, the royal standard is traditionally said to 
have been displayed from the Hare Stane, a high stone, now built 
into the wall, on the left hand of the highway leading towards 
Braid, not far from the head of Burntsfield Links. The Hare 
Stane probably derives its name from the British word Har, signi- 
fying an army. 



29 G APPENDIX TO 

Note 2 Q. 

O'er the pavilions flew.— V . 150. 

I do not exactly know the Scottish mode of encampment in 1513, 
but Patten gives a curious description of that which he saw after 
the battle of Pinkey, 1547 : — " Here now, to say something of the 
manner of their camp : As they had no pavilions, or round houses, 
of any commendable compass, so wear there few other tentes with 
posts, as the used manner of making is ; and of these few also, 
none of above twenty foot length, but most far under ; for the most 
part all very sumptuously beset, (after their fashion,) for the love 
of France, with fleur-de-lys, some of blue buckeram, some of black, 
and some of some other colours. These white ridges, as I call 
them, that, as we stood on Fauxsyde Bray, did make so great mus- 
ter towards us, which I did take then to be a number of tentes, 
when we came, we found it a linen drapery, of the coarser cam- 
bryk in dede, for it was all of canvas sheets, and wear the tenticles, 
or rather cabyns and couches of their soldiers ; the which (much 
after the common building of their country beside) had they framed 
of four sticks, about an ell long a piece, whereof two fastened to- 
gether at one end aloft, and the two endes beneath stuck in the 
ground, an ell asunder, standing in fashion like the bowes of a 
sowes yoke ; over two such bowes (one, as it were, at their head, 
the other at their feet,) they stretched a sheet down on both sides, 
whereby their cabin became roofed like a ridge, but skant shut at 
both ends, and not very close beneath on the sides, unless their 
sticks were the shorter, or their wives the more liberal to lend them 
larger napeiw ; howbeit, when they had lined them, and stuff'd 
them so thick with straw, with the weather as it was not very cold, 
when they wear ones couched, they were as warm as they had been 
wrapt in horses dung " — Patten's Account of Somerset's Expedi- 
tion, 

Note 2 R. 

Since first, ivhen conquering York arose, 
To Henri/ meek she gave repose. — P. 159. 

Henry VI., with his Queen, his heir, and the chiefs of his family, 
fled to Scotland after the battle of Towton. In this note a doubt 
was formerly expressed, whether Henry VI. came to Edinburgh, 
though his Queen certainly did ; Mr. Pinkerton inclining to believe 



MARMION. 297 

that he remained at Kirkcudbright. But my noble friend, Lord 
Napier, has pointed out to me a grant by Henry, of an annuity of 
forty marks to his Lordship's ancestor, John Napier, subscribed by 
the King himself, at Edinburgh, the 28th day of August, in the 
thirty-ninth year of his reign, which corresponds to the year of God, 
1461. This grant, Douglas, with his usual neglect of accuracy, dates 
in 1368. But this error being corrected from the copy of Macfar- 
lane's MSS., p. 110, 20, removes all scepticism on the subject of 
Henry VI. being really at Edinburgh. John Napier was son and 
heir of Sir Alexander Napier, and about this time was Provost of 
Edinburgh. The hospitable recejjtion of the distressed monarch 
and his family, called forth on Scotland the encomium of Molinet, 
a contemporary poet. The English people, he says, — 

" Ung nouveau roy crierent, 

Par despiteux vouloir, 
Le vieil en debouterent, 

Et son legitime lioir, 
Qui fuytyf alia prendre 

D'Ecosse" le gar and, 
Dc tous siecles le mmdrc, 

Et le plus toller ant." 

Recollection des Avantures. 



Note 2 S. 

To pass, to wheel, the croupe to gain, 
And high curvett, that not in vain 
The sword sway might descend amain 
On foeman's casque below. — P. 165. 

" The most useful air, as the Frenchmen term it, is territerr ; 
the courbettes, cabrioles, or un paset unsault, being fitter for horses 
of parade and triumph than for soldiers : yet I cannot deny but a 
demivolte with courbettes, so that they be not too high, may be use- 
ful in a fight or meslee ; for, as Labroue hath it, in his Book of 
Horsemanship, Monsieur de Montmorency having a horse that was 
excellent in performing the demivolte, did, with his sword, strike 
down two adversaries from their horses in a tourney, where divers 
of the prime gallants of France did meet ; for, taking his time, 
when the horse was in the height of his courbette, and discharging 
a blow then, his sword fell with such weight and force upon the 
two cavaliers, one after another, that he struck them from their 
horses to the ground."— Lord Herbert o/CJierbury's Life, p. 48. 
u 



203 APPENDIX TO 

Note -2 T. 

His arms were halbert, axe, or spear. —P. 165. 

Bows and quivers were in vain recommended to the peasantry of 
Scotland, by repeated statutes ; spears and axes seem universally 
to have been used instead of them. Their defensive armour was 
the plate-jack, hauberk, or brigantine ; and their missle weapons 
crossbows and culverins. All wore swords of excellent temper, 
according to Patten ; and a voluminous handkerchief round their 
neck, " not for cold, but for cutting." The mace also was much 
used in the Scottish army : The old poem on the battle of Flodden 
mentions a band— 

" Who manfully did meet their foes, 
With leaden mauls, and lances long." 
When the feudal array of the kingdom was called forth, each 
man was obliged to appear with forty days' provision. When this 
was expended, which took place before the battle of Flodden, the 
army melted away of course. Almost all the Scottish forces, ex- 
cept a few knights, men-at-arms, and the Border-prickers, who 
formed excellent light-cavalry, acted upon foot. 

Note 2 U. 

his iron belt, 

That bound his breast in penance pain, 
hi memory of his father slain. — P. 172. 

Few readers need to be reminded of this belt, to the weight of 
which James added certain ounces every year that he lived. Pit- 
scottie founds his belief that James was not slain in the battle of 
Flodden, because the English never had this token of the iron-belt 
to show to any Scottishman. The person and character of James 
are delineated according to our best historians. His romantic dis- 
position, which led him highly to relish gaiety, approaching to 
license, was, at the same time, tinged with enthusiastic devotion. 
These propensities sometimes formed a strange contrast. He was 
wont, during his fits of devotion, to assume the dress, and conform 
to the rules, of the order of Franciscans ; and when he had thus 
done penance for some time in Stirling, to plunge again into the 
tide of pleasure. Probably, too, with no unusual inconsistency, he 
sometimes laughed at the superstitious observances to which he at 



MARMION. 29.9 

other times subjected himself. There is a very singular poem by 
Dunbar, seemingly addressed to James IV., on one of these occa- 
sions of monastic seclusion. It is a most daring and profane parody 
on the services of the Church of Rome, entitled, — 

" Dunbar's Dirige to the King, 
By ding oiver king in Striviling. 
We that are here, in heaven's glory, 
To you that are in Purgatory, 
Commend us on our hearty wise ; 
I mean we folks in Paradise, 
In Edinburgh, with all merriness, 
To you in Stirling with distress, 
Where neither pleasure nor delight is, 
For pity this epistle wrytis," &c. 
See the whole in Sibbald's Collection, vol. i. p. 234. 

Note 2 X. 

Sir Hugh the Heron's wife held sway.—V. 173. 

It has been already noticed, [see note to stanza xiii. of canto i.,] 
that King James's acquaintance with Lady Heron of Ford did not 
commence until he marched into England. Our historians impute 
to the King's infatuated passion the delays which led to the fatal 
defeat of Flodden. The author of ' ' The Genealogy of the Heron 
Family" endeavours, with laudable anxiety, to clear the Lady Ford 
from this scandal : that she came and went, however, between the 
armies of James and Surrey, is certain. See Pjnk.erton"'s History, 
and the authorities he refers to, vol. ii. p. 99. Heron of Ford had 
been, in 1511, in some sort accessory to the slaughter of Sir Robert 
Kerr of Cessford, Warden of the Middle Marches. It was com- 
mitted by his brother the bastard, Lilburn, and Started, three 
Borders. Lilburn, and Heron of Ford were delivered up by Henry 
to James, and were imprisoned in the fortress of Fastcastle, where 
the former died. Part of the pretence of Lady Ford's negociaticns 
with James was the liberty, of her husband. 



Note 2 Y. 
Archibald Bell-ihe-CaL—T . 1/8. 
Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, a man remarkable for 



300 APPENDIX TO 

strength of body and mind, acquired the popular name of BeU-the- 
Cat, upon the following remarkable occasion :— James the Third, 
of whom Pitscottie complains, that he delighted more in music, 
and "policies of building," than in hunting, hawking, and other 
noble exercises, was so ill advised, as to make favourites of his 
architects and musicians, whom the same historian irreverently 
terms masons and fiddlers. His nobility, who did not sympathize 
in the King's respect for the fine arts, were extremely incensed at 
the honours conferred on those persons, particularly on Cochrane, 
a mason, who had been created Earl of Mar ; and, seizing the 
opportunity, when, in 1482, the King had convoked the whole 
array of the country to march against the English, they held a mid- 
night council in the church of Lauder, for the purpose of forcibly 
removing these minions from the King's person. When all had 
agreed on the propriety of this measure, Lord Gray told the 
assembly the apologue of the Mice, who had formed a resolution, 
that it would be highly advantageous to their community to tie a 
bell round the cat's neck, that they might hear her approach at a 
distance ; but which public measure unfortunately miscarried, from 
no mouse being willing to undertake the task of fastening the bell. 
"I understand the moral," said Angus, "and, that what we pro- 
pose may not lack execution, I will bell the cat" The rest of the 
strange scene is thus told by Pitscottie : — 

" By this was advised and spoken by thir lords foresaid, Coch- 
ran, the Earl of Mar, came from the King to the council, (which 
council was holden in the kirk of Lauder for the time, ) who was 
well accompanied with a band of men of war, to the number ot 
three hundred light axes, all clad in white livery, and black bends 
thereon, that they might be known for Cochran the Earl of Mar's 
men. Himself was clad in a riding-pie of black velvet, with a 
great chain of gold about his neck, to the value of five hundred 
crowns, and four blowing horns, with both the ends of gold and 
silk, set with a preoious stone, called a berryl, hanging in the midst. 
This Cochran had his heumont born before him, overgilt with gold, 
and so were all the rest of his horns, and all his pallions were of 
fine canvas of silk, and the cords thereof fine twined silk, and the 
chains upon his pallions were double overgilt with gold. 

" This Cochran was so proud in his conceit, that he counted no 
lords to be marrows to him, therefore he rushed rudely at the kirk- 
door. The council inquired who it was that perturbed them at 
that time. Sir Robert Douglas, laird of Lochleven, was keeper 
of the kirk-door at that time, who inquired who that was that 
knocked so rudely ; and Cochran answered, ' This is I, the Earl 
of Mar.' The which neAvs pleased well the lords, because they 
were ready boun to cause take him, as is before rehearsed. Then 



MARMION. 301 

the Earl of Angus passed hastily to the door, and with him Sir 
Robert Douglas of Lochleven, there to receive in the Earl of Mar, 
and so many of his complices -who were there, as they thought 
good. And the Earl of Angus met with the Earl of Mar, as he 
came in at the door, and pulled the golden chain from his craig, 
and said to him, a tow 1 would set him better. Sir Robert Douglas 
syne pulled the blowing horn from him in like manner, and said, 
' He had been the hunter of mischief over long.' This Cochran 
asked, ' My lords, is it mows, 2 or earnest ?' They answered, and 
said, ' It is good earnest, and so thou shalt find ; for thou and thy 
complices have abused our prince this long time ; of whom thou 
shalt have no more credence, but shalt have thy reward according to 
thy good service, as thou hast deserved in times bypast ; right so 
the rest of thy followers. 

" Notwithstanding, the lords held them quiet till they caused 
certain armed men to pass into the King's pallion, and two or three 
wise men to pass with them, and give the King fair pleasant words, 
till they laid hands on all the King's servants, and took them and 
hanged them before his eyes over the bridge of Lawder. Incon- 
tinent they brought forth Cochran, and his hands bound with a 
tow, who desired them to take one of his own pallion tows and 
bind his hands, for he thought shame to have his hands bound 
with such tow of hemp, like a thief. The lords answered, he was 
a traitor, he deserved no better ; and, for despite, they took a hair 
tether, 3 and hanged him over the bridge of Lawder, above the rest 
of his complices." — Pitscottje, p. 78, folio edit. 



Note 2 Z. 

Then rest you in Tantallon Hold.—P. 180. 

The ruins of Tantallon Castle occupy a high rock projecting into 
the German Ocean, about two miles east of North Berwick. The 
building is not seen till a close approach, as there is rising ground 
betwixt it and the land. The circuit is of large extent, fenced upon 
three sides by the precipice which overhangs the sea, and on the 
fourth by a double ditch and very strong outworks. Tantallon was 
a principal castle of the Douglas family, and when the Earl of 
Angus was banished, in 1527, it continued to hold out against James 
V. The King went in person against it, and for its reduction, bor- 
rowed from the Castle of Dunbar, then belonging to the Duke of 
Albany, two great cannons, whose names, as Pitscottie informs us 

1 Rope. 2 j es t. 3 Halter. 



302 APPENDIX TO 

with laudable minuteness, were " Thrawn-mouth'd Meg and her 
Marrow ;" also, "two great botcards, and two moyan, two double 
falcons, and four quarter falcons ;" for the safe guiding and re-de- 
livery of which, three lords were laid in pawn at Dunbar. Yet, 
notwithstanding all this apparatus, James was forced to raise the 
siege, and only afterwards obtained possession of Tantallon by 
treaty with the governor, Simon Panango. When the Earl of 
Angus return'd from banishment, upon the death of James, he 
again obtained possession of Tantallon, and it actually afforded 
refuge to an English ambassador, under circumstances similar to 
those described in the text. This was no other than the celebrated 
Sir Ralph Sadler, who resided there for some time under Angus's 
protection, after the failure of his negotiation for matching the 
infant Mary with Edward VI. He says, that though this place was 
poorly furnished, it was of such strength as might warrant him 
against the malice of his enemies, and that he now thought himself 
out of danger. l 

There is a military tradition, that the old Scottish March was 
meant to express the words, 

Ding down Tantallon, 
Mak a brig to the Bass. 

Tantallon was at length " dung down" and ruined by the Cove- 
nanters ; its lord, the Marquis of Douglas, being a favourer of the 
royal cause. The castle and barony were sold in the beginning of 
the eighteenth century to President Dalrymple of North Berwick, 
by the then Marquis of Douglas. 



Note 3 A. 

Their motto on his blade.— P. 180. 

A very ancient sword, in possession of Lord Douglas, bears, 
among a great deal of flourishing, two hands pointing to a heart, 
which is placed betwixt them, and the date 1329, being the year 
in which Bruce charged the Good Lord Douglas to carry his heart 
to the Holy Land. The following lines (the first couplet of which 
is quoted by Godscroft, as a popular saying in his time) are in- 
scribed around the emblem : 

i The very curious State Papers of this able negotiator were, in 
181 0, published by Mr. Clifford, with some notes by the Author of 
M arm ion. 



MARMION. 303 

" So mony guid as of ye Dovglas beinge, 

Of ane surname was ne'er in Scotland seine. 

I will ye charge, efter yat I depart, 
To holy grawe, and thair bury my hart ; 
Let it remane ever bothe tvme and howr, 
To ye last day I sie my Saviour. 

I do protest in tyme of al my ringe, 
Ye lyk subject had never ony keing." 

This curious and valuable relic was nearly lost during the Civil 
War of 1745-6, being carried away from Douglas-Castle by some of 
those in arms for Prince Charles. But great interest having been 
made by the Duke of Douglas among the chief partisans of the 
Stuart, it was at length restored. It resembles a Highland clay- 
more, of the usual size, is of an excellent temper, and admirably 
poised. 



Note 3 B. 

Perchance some form was unobserved ; 
PercMnce in prayer, or faith, he swerved. — P. 186. 

It was early necessary for those who felt themselves obliged to 
believe in the divine judgment being enunciated in the trial by duel, 
to find salvos for the strange and obviously precarious chances of 
the combat. Various curious evasive shifts, used by those who took 
up an unrighteous quarrel, were supposed sufficient to convert it 
into a just one. Thus, in the romance of " Amys and Amelion," 
the one brother-in-arms, fighting for the other, disguised in his 
armour, swears that he did not commit the crime of which the 
Steward, his antagonist, truly, though maliciously, accused him 
whom he represented. Brantome tells a story of an Italian, who 
entered the lists upon an unjust quarrel, but, to make his cause 
good, fled from his enemy at the first onset. " Turn, coward ! " 
exclaimed his antagonist. " Thou liest, " said the Italian, " coward 
am I none ; and in this quarrel will I fight to the death, but my 
first cause of combat was unjust, and I abandon it." " Je vous 
laisse a penser," adds Brantome, " s'il n'y a pas de Tabus Id." Else- 
where he says, very sensibly, upon the confidence which those who 
had a righteous cause entertained of victory : " Un autre abus y 
avoit-il, que ceux qui avoient un juste subjet de querelle, et qu'on les 
faisoit jurer avant entrer au camp, pensoient estre aussitost vain- 
queurs, voire s'en assuroient-t-ils du tout, mesmes que leurs confes- 



304 



APPENDIX TO 



seurs, parrains et confidants leurs en respondoient tout-d-fait, comme 
si Dieu lew en exist donnc une patente ; et ne regardant point & 
$ autre fautes passees, et que Dieu en gardela punition d ce coup Id 
pour plus grande, despiteuse, et exemplaire "—Discours sur le Duels. 



Note 3 C. 
Dun-Edin's Cross.— P. 189. 

The Cross of Edinburgh was an ancient and curious structure. 
The lower part was an octagonal tower, sixteen feet in diameter, 
and about fifteen feet high. At each angle there was a pillar, and 
between them an arch, of the Grecian shape. Above these was a 
projecting battlement, with a turret at each corner, and medallions, 
of rude but curious workmanship, between them. Above this rose 
the proper Cross, a column of one stone, upwards of twenty feet 
high, surmounted with a unicorn. This pillar is preserved in the 
grounds of the property of Drum, near Edinburgh. The Magis- 
trates of Edinburgh, in 1756, with consent of the Lords of Session, 
(proh pudor !) destroyed this curious monument, under a wanton 
pretext that it encumbered the street ; while, on the one hand, they 
left an ugly mass called the Luckenbooths, and, on the other, an 
awkward, long, and low guard-house, which were fifty times more 
encumbrance than the venerable and inoffensive Cross. 

From the tower of the Cross, so long as it remained, the heralds 
published the acts of Parliament ; and its site, marked by radii, 
diverging from a stone centre, in the High Street, is still the place 
where proclamations are made. 



Note 3 D. 

This awful summons came.— P. 190. 

This supernatural citation is mentioned by all our Scottish his- 
torians. It was, probably, like the apparition at Linlithgow, an 
attempt, by those averse to the war, to impose upon the supersti- 
tious temper of James IV. The following account from Pitscottie 
is characteristically minute, and furnishes, besides, some curious 
particulars of the equipment of the army of James IV. I need only 
add to it, that Plotcock, or Plutock, is no other than Pluto. The 
Christians of the middle ages by no means misbelieved in the exis- 
tence of the heathen deities ; they only considered them as devils ; 
and Plotcock, so far from implying any thing fabulous, was a sync- 



MARMION. 305 

nyme of the grand enemy of mankind. i " Yet all thir warnings, 
and uncouth tidings, nor no good counsel, might stop the King, at 
this present, from his vain purpose, and wicked enterprise, hut 
hasted him fast to Edinburgh, and there to make his provision and 
furnishing, in having forth of his army against the day appointed, 
that they should meet in the Burrow-muir of Edinburgh : That is 
to say, seven cannons that he had forth of the Castle of Edinburgh, 
which were called the Seven Sisters, casten by Robert Borthwick, 
the master-gunner, with other small artillery, bullet, powder, and 
all manner of order, as the master-gunner could devise. 

" In this meantime, when they were taking forth their artillery, 
and the King being in the Abbey for the time, there was a cry 
heard at the Market-cross of Edinburgh, at the hour of midcigbt, 
proclaiming as it had been a summons, which was named and called 
by the proclaimer thereof, the summons of Plotcock ; which desired 
all men to compear, both Earl, and Lord, and Baron, and all ho- 
nest gentlemen within the town, (every man specified by his own 
name, ) to compear, within the space of forty days, before his mas- 
ter, where it should happen him to appoint, and be for the time, 
under the pain of disobedience. But whether this summons was 
proclaimed by vain persons, night-walkers, or drunken men, for 
their pastime, or if it was a spirit, I cannot tell truly ; but it was 
shewn to me, that an in dweller of the town, Mr. Richard Lawson, 
being evil-disposed, ganging in his gallery-stair foreanent the Cross, 
hearing this voice proclaiming this summons, thought marvel what 
it should be, cried on his servant to bring him his purse ; and when 
he had brought him it, he took out a crown, and cast over the stair, 
saying, ' I appeal from that summons, judgment, and sentence 
thereof, and take me all whole in the mercy of God, and Christ 
Jesus his son.' Verily, the author of this, that caused me write 
the manner of this summons, was a landed gentleman, who was at 
that time twenty years of age, and was in the town the time of the 
said summons ; and thereafter, when the field was stricken, he 
swore to me, there was no man that escaped that was called in this 

i See, on this curious subject, the Essay on Fairies, in the " Bor- 
der Minstrelsy," vol. ii. under the fourth head; also Jackson on 
Unbelief, p. 175. Chaucer calls Pluto the " King of Faerie ;" and 
Dunbar names him, " Pluto, that elrich incubus." If he was not 
actually the devil, he must be considered as the " prince of the 
power of the air." The most surviving instance of these surviving 
classical superstitions, is that of the Germans, concerning the Hill 
of Venus, into which she attempts to entice all gallant knights, and 
detains them there in a sort of Fool's Paradise. 



306 APPENDIX TO 

summons, but that one man alone which made his protestation, 
and appealed from the said summons ; but all the lave were pe- 
rished in the field with the king." 



Note 3 E. 

His towers, Tantallon vast, 

And double mound and fosse— P. 198 

[During the regency (subsequent to the death of James V.) the 
Dowager Queen Regent, Mary of Guise, became desirous of putting 
a French garrison into Tantallon, as she had into Dunbar andlnch- 
keith, in order the better to bridle the lords and barons, who in- 
clined to the reformed faith, and to secure by citadels the sea-coast 
of the Frith of Forth. For this purpose, the Regent, to use the 
phrase of the time ' dealed with' the (then) Earl of Angus for his 
consent to the proposed measure. He occupied himself, while she 
was speaking, in feeding a falcon which sat upon his wrist, and only 
replied by addressing the bird, but leaving the Queen to make the 
application, ' The devil is ir this greedy gled — she will never be 
fou.' But when the Queen, without appearing to notice this hint, 
continued to press her obnoxious request, Angus replied, in the 
true spirit of a feudal noble, ' Yes, Madam, the castle is yours ; 
God forbid else. But by the might of God, Madam !' such was his 
usual oath, ' I must be your Captain and Keeper for you, and I will 
keep it as well as any you can place there.' " — Sir Walter Scott's 
Provincial Antiquities, vol. ii. p. 107- — Prose JVorks, vol. vii. p. 
436.] 

Note 3 F. 



- the savage Dane 



At Iol more deep the mead did drain. — P. 201 

The Iol of the heathen Danes (a word still applied to Christmas 
in Scotland) was solemnized with great festivity. The humour of 
the Danes at table displayed itself in pelting each other with bones ; 
and Torfaeus tells a long and curious story, in the History of Hrolfe 
Kraka, of one Hottus, an inmate of the Court of Denmark, who 
was so generally assailed with these missiles, that he constructed, 
out of the bones with which he was overwhelmed, a very respect- 
able intrenchment, against those who continued the raillery. The 



MARMION. 307 

dances of the northern warriors round the great fires of pine-trees, 
are commemorated by Olaus Magnus, who says, they danced with 
such fury, holding each other by the hands, that, if the grasp of 
any failed, he was pitched into the fire with the velocity of a sling. 
The sufferer, on such occasions, was instantly plucked out, and ob- 
liged to quaff off a certain measure of ale, as a penalty for " spoil- 
ing the king's fire." 



Note 3 G. 

On Christmas eve the mass icas sung; 

That only night in all the year, 

Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear. — P. 202. 

In Konian Catholic countries, mass is never said at night, ex- 
cept on Christmas eve. Each of the frolics with which that holyday 
used to be celebrated, might admit of a long and curious note ; but 
I shall content myself with the following description of Christmas, 
and his attributes, as personified in one of Ben Jonson's Masques 
for the Court. 

"•Enter Christmas, with two or three of the Guard. He is 
attired in round hose, long stockings, a close doublet, a high-crowned 
hat, with a brooch, a long thin beard, a truncheon, little ruffs, white 
shoes, his scarf and garters tied cross, and his drum beaten before 
him. — The names of his children, with their attires : Miss-Rule, in a 
velvet cap, with a sprig, a short cloak, great yellow ruff, like a 
reveller ; his torch-bearer bearing a rope, a cheese, and a basket ; 
— Caroll, a long tawny coat, with a red cap, and a flute at his 
girdle ; his torch-bearer earning a song-book open ; — Mine' d-pie, 
like a fine cook's wife, drest neat, her man carrying a pie, dish, and 
sj>oons ; — Gamboll, like a tumbler, with a hoop and bells ; his 
torch-bearer arm'd with cole-staff, and blinding cloth ; — Post and 
Pair, with a pair-royal of aces in his hat, his garment all done over 
with pairs and purs ; his squire carrying a box, cards and counters ; 
—New-year's-Gift, in a blue coat, serving-man like, with an orange, 
and a sprig of rosemary gilt on his head, his hat full of brooches, 
with a collar of gingerbread ; his torch-bearer carrying a march- 
pain, with a bottle of wine on either arm ; — Mumming, in a masquing 
pied suit, with a visor ; his torch bearer carrying the box, and ring- 
ing it ; — Wassal, like a neat sempster and songster ; her page bear- 
ing a brown bowl, drest with ribbands, and rosemary, before her ; 
— Offering, in a short gown, with a porter's staff in his hand ; a 
wyth borne before him, and a bason, by his torch-bearer ; — Baby 



308 APPENDIX TO 

Cocke, drest like a "boy, in a fine long coat, biggin, bib, muckender. 
and a little dagger ; his usher bearing a great cake, with a bean 
and a pease." 



Note 3 H. 

Who lists may in their mumming see 
Traces of ancient mystery. — P. 204. 

It seems certain that the Mummers of England, -who, in Nor- 
thumberland at least) used to go about in disguise to the neigh- 
bouring houses, bearing the then useless ploughshares ; and the 
Guisards of Scotland, not yet in total disuse, present, in some in- 
distinct degree, a shadow of the old mysteries, which were the 
origin of the English drama. In Scotland, (me ipso teste,) we were 
wont, during my boyhood, to take the characters of the apostles, 
at least of Peter, Paul, and Judas Iscariot ; the first had the keys, 
the second carried a sword, and the last the bag, in which the 
dole of our neighbours' plumb cake was deposited. One played a 
a champion, and recited some traditional rhymes ; another was 

. " Alexander, King of Macedon, 
Who conquer'd all the world but Scotland alone. 
When he came to Scotland his courage grew cold, 
To see a little nation courageous and bold." 

These, and many such verses, were repeated, but by rote, and un- 
connectedly. There was also, occasionally, 1 believe, a Saint 
George. In all, there was a confused resemblance of the ancient 
mysteries, in which the characters of Scripture, the Nine Worthies, 
and other popular personages, were usually exhibited. It were 
much to be wished that the Chester Mysteries were published from 
the MS. in the Museum, with the annotations which a diligent in- 
vestigator of popular antiquities might still supply. The late acute 
and valuable antiquary, Mr. Ritson, showed me several memo- 
randa towards such a task, which are probably now dispersed or 
lost. See, however, his Remarks on Shakspeare, 1783, p. 38. 

Since the first edition of Marmion appeared, this subject has 
received much elucidation from the learned and extensive labours 
of Mr. Douce ; and the Chester Mysteries [edited by J. H. Mark- 
land, Esq.] have been printed in a style of great elegance and ac- 
curacy, (in 1818,) by Bensley and Sons, London, for the Roxburghe 
Club. 1830. 



MARMION. 30D 



Note 3 I. 

When my great-grandsire came of old, 
JVith amber beard and flaxen hair. — P. 204. 

Mr. Scott of Harden, my kind and affectionate friend, and distant 
relation, has the original of a poetical invitation, addressed from 
his grandfather to my relative, from which a few lines in the text 
are imitated. They are dated, as the epistle in the text, from Mer- 
toun-house, the seat of the Harden family. 

" With amber heard, and flaxen hair, 

And reverend apostolic air, 

Free of anxiety and care, 

Come hither, Christmas-day, and dine ; 

We'll mix sobriety with wine, 

And easy mirth with thoughts divine. 

We Christians think it holiday, 

On it no sin to feast or play ; 
Others, in spite, may fast and pray. 
No superstition in the use 

Our ancestors made of a goose ; 

Why may not we, as well as they, 

Be innocently blithe that day, 

On goose or pie, on wine or ale, 

And scorn enthusiastic zeal ? — 

Pray come, and welcome, or plague rott 

Your friend and landlord, Walter Scott. 
" Mr. Walter Scott, Lessuden." 

The venerable old gentleman, to whom the lines are addressed, 
was the younger brother of William Scott of Raeburn. Being the 
cadet of a cadet of the Harden family, he had very little to lose ; 
yet he contrived to lose the small property he had, by engaging in 
the civil wars and intrigues of the house of Stuart. His veneration 
for the exiled family was so great, that he swore he would not shave 
his beard till they were restored : a mark of attachment, which, I 
suppose, had been common during Cromwell's usurpation ; for, in 
Cowley's " Cutter of Coleman Street," one drunken cavalier up- 
braids another, that, when he was not able to afford to pay a bar- 
ber, he affected to " wear a beard for the King." I sincerely hope 
this was not absolutely the original reason of my ancestor's beard ; 
which, as appears from a portrait in the possession of Sir Henry 
Hay Macdougal, Bart., and another painted for the famous Dr. 



310 APPENDIX TO 

Pitcaim, 1 was a beard of a most dignified and venerable appear- 
ance. 

Note 3 K. 
The Spirit's Blasted Tree.—Y. 207- 

This passage is illustrated by " Ceubren yr Ellyll, or the Spirit's 
Blasted Tree," a legendary tale, by the Reverend George Warring- 
ton, who says : — 

" The event, on which the tale is founded, is preserved by tra- 
dition in the family of the Vaughans of Hengwyrt ; nor is it entirely 
lost, even among the common people, who still point out this oak 
to the passenger. The enmity between the two Welsh chieftains, 
Howel Sele, and Owen Glendwr, was extreme, and marked by vile 
treachery in the one, and ferocious cruelty in the other. 2 The story 
is somewhat changed and softened, as more favourable to the cha- 
racter of the two chiefs, and as better answering the purpose of 
poetry, by admitting the passion of pity, and a greater degree of 
sentiment in the description. Some trace of Howel Sele's mansion 
was to be seen a few years ago, and may perhaps be still visible, in 
the park of Nannau, no w belonging to Sir Robert Vaughan, Baronet, 
in the wild and romantic tracks of Merionethshire. The abbey 
mentioned passes under two names, Vener and Cymmer. The for- 
mer is retained, as more generally used." — See the Metrical Tale, 
in Sir Walter Scott's Poetical Works, vol. vii. pp. 31)6-402. 



Note 3 L. 

The Highlander 

Witt, on a Friday morn, look pale, 
Ifask'd to tell a fairy tale.—F. 207- 

The Daoine shi', or Men of Peace, of the Scottish Highlanders, 
rather resemble the Scandinavian Duergar, than the English 
Fames. Notwithstanding their name, they are, if not absolutely 
malevolent, at least peevish, discontented, and apt to do mischief 

1 The old gentleman was an intimate of this celebrated genius. 
By the favour of the late Earl of Kellie, descended on the maternal 
side from Dr. Pitcairn, my father became possessed of the portrait 
in question. 

2 The history of their feud may be found in Pennant's Tour in 
Wales. 



MARMION. 311 

on slight provocation. The belief of their existence is deeply im- 
pressed on the Highlanders, who think they are particularly offend- 
ed at mortals, who talk of them, who wear their favourite colour 
green, or in any respect interfere with their affairs. This is espe- 
cially to be avoided on Friday, when, whether as dedicated to 
Venus, with whom, in Germany, this subterraneous people are 
held nearly connected, or for a more solemn reason, they are more 
active and possessed of greater power. Some curious particulars 
concerning the popular superstitions of the Highlanders may be 
found in Dr. Graham's Picturesque Sketches of Perthshire. 



Note 3 M. 
Beneath the Towers of Franchemont — P. 207- 

The journal of the Friend, to whom the Fourth Canto of the 
poem is inscribed, furnished me with the following account of a 
striking superstition. 

Passed the pretty little village of Franchemont, (near Spaw,) 
with the romantic ruins of the old castle of the counts of that name. 
The road leads through many delightful vales, on a rising ground ; 
at the extremity of one of them stands the ancient castle, now the 
subject of many superstitious legends. It is firmly believed by the 
neighbouring peasantry, that the last Baron of Franchemont depo- 
sited, in one of the vaults of the castle, a ponderous chest, contain- 
ing an immense treasure in gold and silver, which, by some magic 
spell, was intrusted to the care of the Devil, who is constantly 
found sitting on the chest in the shape of a huntsman. Any one 
adventurous enough to touch the chest is instantly seized with the 
palsy. Upon one occasion, a priest of noted piety was brought to 
the vault : he used all the arts of exorcism to persuade his infernal 
majesty to vacate his seat, but in vain ; the huntsman remained 
immoveable. At last, moved by the earnestness of the priest, he 
told him, that he would agree to resign the chest, if the exorciser 
would sign his name with blood. But the priest understood his 
meaning, and refused, as by that act he would have delivered over 
his soul to the Devil. Yet if any body can discover the mystic 
words used by the person who deposited the treasure, and pro- 
nounced them, the fiend must instantly decamp. I had many 
stories of a similar nature from a peasant, who had himself seen 
the Devil, in the shape of a great cat." 



312 APPNEDIX TO 



Note 3 N. 

The very form of Hilda fair, 
Hoveling upon the sunny air, 
And smiling on her votaries prayer.— V. 214. 

I shall only produce one instance more of the great veneration 
paid to lady Hilda, which still prevails even in these our days ; and 
that is, the constant opinion, that she rendered, and still renders 
herself visible, on some occasions, in the Abbey of Streamshalh, or 
Whitby, where she so long resided. At a particular time of the 
year, (viz. in the summer months,) at ten or eleven in the forenoon, 
the sunbeams fall in the inside of the northern part of the choir ; 
and 'tis then that the spectators, who stand on the west side of 
Whitby churchyard, so as just to see the most northerly part of the 
abbey pass the north end of Whitby church, imagine they perceive, 
in one of the highest windows there, the resemblance of a woman, 
arrayed in a shroud. Though we are certain this is only a reflec- 
tion caused by the splendour of the sunbeams, yet fame reports it, 
and it is constantly believed among the vulgar, to be an appear- 
ance of Lady Hilda in her shroud, or rather in a glorified state ; 
before which, I make no doubt, the Papists, even in these our 
days, offer up their prayers with as much zeal and devotion, as 
before any other image of their most glorified saint."— Charlton's 
History of Whitby, p. 33. 



Note 3 O. 

And hopest thou hence unscathed to go ? 
No, by Saint Bride ofBothwell, no! 
Up drawbridge, grooms— ivhat, Warder, ho ! 
Let the portcullis fall— P. 225. 

This ebullition of violence in the potent Earl of Angus is not 
without its example in the real history of the house of Douglas, 
whose chieftains possessed the ferocity, with the heroic virtues, of 
a savage state. The most curious instance occurred in the case of 
Maclellan, Tutor of Bombay, who, having refused to acknowledge 
the pre-eminence claimed by Douglas over the gentlemen and Ba- 
rons of Galloway, was seized and imprisoned by the Earl, in his 
castle of the Thrieve, on the borders of Kirkcudbrightshire. Sir 
Patrick Gray, commander of King James the Second's guard, was 
uncle to the Tutor of Bombay, and obtained from the King a 



MARMION. 313 

u sweet letter of supplication," praying the Earl to deliver his 
prisoner into Gray's hand. When Sir Patrick arrived at the castle, 
he was received with all the honour due to a favourite servant of 
the King's household ; but while he was at dinner, the Earl, who 
suspected his errand, caused his prisoner to be led forth and be- 
headed. After dinner, Sir Patrick presented the King's letter to 
the Earl, who received it with great affectation of reverence ; " and 
took him by the hand, and led him forth to the green, where the 
gentleman was lying dead, and showed him the manner, and said, 
' Sir Patrick, you are come a little too late ; yonder is your sister's 
son lying, but he wants the head : take his body, and do with it 
what you will. — Sir Patrick answered again, with a sore heart, and 
said, ' My lord, if ye have taken from him his head, dispone upon 
the body as ye please ;' and with that called for his horse, and 
leaped thereon ; and when he was On horseback, he said to the Earl 
on this manner, ' My lord, if I live, you shall be rewarded for your 
labours, that you have used at this time, according to your de- 
merits.' 

" At this saying the Earl was highly offended, and cried for 
horse. Sir Patrick, seeing the Earl's fury, spurred his horse, but 
he was chased near Edinburgh ere they left him ; and had it not 
been his led horse was so tried and good, he had been taken." — 
PrrscoTTiE's History, p. 39. 



Note 3 P. 

Tlie Till by Twisel Bridge.— -P. 230. 

On the evening previous to the memorable battle of Flodden, 
Surrey's headquarters were at Barmoor Wood, and King James 
held an inaccessible position on the ridge of Flodden-hill, one of 
the last and lowest eminences detached from the ridge of Cheviot. 
The Till, a deep and slow river, winded between the armies. On 
the morning of the 9th September, 1513, Surrey marched in a 
north-westerly direction, and crossed the Till, with his van and 
artillery, at Twisel-bridge, nigh where that river joins the Tweed, 
his rear-guard column passing about a mile higher, by a ford. This 
movement had the double effect of placing his army between King 
James and his supplies from Scotland, and of striking the Scottish 
monarch with surprise, as he seems to have relied on the depth of 
the river in his front. But as the passage, both over the bridge 
and through the ford, was difficult and slow, it seems possible that 
the English might have been attacked to great advantage while 
struggling with these natural obstacles. I know not if we are to 



314 APPENDIX TO 

impute James's forbearance to want of military skill, or to the ro- 
mantic declaration which Pitscottie puts in his mouth, " that he 
was determined to have his enemies before him on a plain field," 
and therefore would suffer no interruption to be given, even by 
artillery, to their passing the river. 

The ancient bridge of Twisel, by which the English crossed the 
Till, is still standing beneath Twisel Castle, a splendid pile of Go- 
thic architecture, as now rebuilt by Sir Francis Blake, Bart., whose 
extensive plantations have so much improved the country around. 
The glen is romantic and delightful, with steep banks on each side, 
covered with copse, particularly with hawthorn. Beneath a tall 
rock, near the bridge, is a plentiful fountain, called St. Helen's 
WelL 



Note 3 Q. 

Hence might (hey see the full array 
Of either host, for deadly fray.— ¥. 234. 

The reader cannot here expect a full account of the Battle of 
Flodden ; but, so far as is necessary to understand the romance, I 
beg to remind him, that, when the English army, by their skilful 
countermarch, were fairly placed between King James and his own 
country, the Scottish monarch resolved to fight ; and, setting fire 
to his tents, descended from the ridge of Flodden to secure the 
neighbouring eminence of Brankstone, on which that village is 
built. Thus the two armies met, almost without seeing each other, 
when, according to the old poem of "Flodden Field," 

" The English line stretch'd east and west, 

And southward were their faces set ; 
The Scottish northward proudly prest, 

And manfully their foes they met." 

The English army advanced in four divisions. On the right, which 
first engaged, were the sons of Earl Surrey, namely, Thomas How- 
ard, the Admiral of England, and Sir Edmund, the Knight Marshal 
of the army. Their divisions were separated from each other ; but, 
at the request of Sir Edmund, his brother's battalion was drawn 
very near to his own. The centre was commanded by Surrey in 
person ; the left wing by Sir Edward Stanley, with the men of 
Lancashire, and the palatinate of Chester. Lord Dacres, with 
a large body of horse, formed a reserve. When the smoke, which 
the wind had driven between the armies, was somewhat dispersed, 
they perceived the Scots, who hadmoved down the hill in a similar 



M ARM ION. 



315 



order of battle, and in deep silence, i The Earls of Huntley and 
of Home commanded their left wing, and charged Sir Edmnnd 
Howard with such success, as entirely to defeat his part of the 
English right wing. Sir Edmund's banner was beaten down, and 
he himself escaped with difficulty to his brother's division. The 
Admiral, however, stood firm ; and Dacre advancing to his support 
with the reserve of cavalry, probably between the interval of the 
divisions commanded by the brothers Howard, appears to have kept 
the victors in eifectual check. Home's men, chiefly Borderers, 
began to pillage the baggage of both armies ; and their leader is 
branded, by the Scottish historians, with negligence or treachery. 
On the other hand, Huntley, on whom they bestow many enco- 
miums, is said, by the English historians, to have left the field after 
the first charge. Meanwhile the Admiral, whose flank these chiefs 
ought to have attacked, availed himself of their inactivity, and 
pushed forward against another large division of the Scottish army 
in his front, headed by the Earls of Crawford and Montrose, both 
of whom were slain, and their forces routed. On the left, the suc- 
cess of the English was yet more decisive; for the Scottish right 
wing, consisting of undisciplined Highlanders, commanded by Len- 
nox and Argyle, was unable to sustain the charge of Sir Edward 
Stanley, and especially the severe execution of the Lancashire ar- 
chers. The King and Surrey, who commanded the respective 
centres of their armies, were meanwhile engaged in close and du- 
bious conflict. James, surrounded by the flower of his kingdom, 
and impatient of the galling discharge of arrows, supported also by 
Iris reserve under Both well, charged with such fury, that the stand- 
ard of Surrey was in danger. At that critical moment, Stanlev. 
who had. routed the left wing of the Scottish, pursued his career of 
victory, and arrived on the right flank, and in the rear of James's 
division, which, throwing itself into a circle, disputed the battle till 
night came on. Surrey then drew back his forces ; for the Scot- 
tish centre not having been broken, and the left wing being victo- 
rious, he yet doubted the event of the field. The Scottish army, 
however, felt their loss, and abandoned the field of battle in dis- 
order, before dawn. They lost, perhaps, from eight to ten thou- 
sand men ; but that included the very prime of their nobility, gen- 
try, and even clergy. Scarce a family of eminence but has an an- 
cestor killed at Flodden ; and there is no province in Scotland, 
even at this day, where the battle is mentioned without a sensation 

1 " Lcsquels Escgssois descendirent la viontaigne en bonne ordre, 
en In maniere quemarchent les Allemans, sansparler, nyfaire aucun 
bruit." — Gazette of the Battle, Pinkerton's History, Appendix, 
vol. ii. p. 456. 



31 6 APPENDIX TO 

of terror and sorrow. The English also lost a great number of 
men, perhaps within one-third of the vanquished, but they were of 
inferior note. — See the only distinct detail of the Field of Flodden 
in Pinkerton's History, Book xi. ; all former accounts being full 
of blunders and inconsistency. 

The spot from which Clara views the battle, must be supposed to 
have been on a hillock commanding the rear of the English right 
wing, which was defeated, and in which conflict Marmion is sup- 
posed to have fallen, i 



Note 3 R. 

Beseem'd the monarch slain.— V. 249. 

There can be no doubt that King James fell in the battle of Flod- 
den. He was killed, says the curious French Gazette, within a lance's 
length of the Earl of Surrey ; and the same account adds, that none 
of his division were made prisoners, though many were killed ; a 
circumstance that testifies the desperation of their resistance. The 
Scottish historians record many of the idle reports which passed 
among the vulgar of their day. Home was accused, by the popular 
voice, not only of failing to support the King, but even of having 
carried him out of the field, and murdered him. And this tale was 
revived in my remembrance, by an unauthenticated story of a 
skeleton, wrapped in a bull's hide, and surrounded with an iron 
chain, said to have been found in the well of Home Castle, for 
which, on enquiry, I could never find any better authority, than 
the sexton of the parish having said, that, if the well were cleaned 

1 [" In 1810, as Sir Carnaby Haggerstone's workmen were dig- 
ging in Flodden Field, they came to a pit filled with human bones, 
and which seemed of great extent ; but, alarmed at the sight, they 
immediately filled up the excavation, and proceeded no farther. 

" In 1817, Mr. Grey of Millfield Hill found, near the traces of an 
ancient encampment, a short distance from Flodden Field, a tu- 
mulus, which, on removing, exhibited a very singular sepulchre. 
In the centre, a large urn was found, but in a thousand pieces. It 
had either been broken to pieces by the stones falling upon it when 
digging, or had gone to pieces on the admission of the air. This 
urn was surrounded by a number of cells formed of flat stones, in 
the shape of graves, but too small to hold the body in its natural 
state. These sepulchral recesses contained nothing except ashes, 
or dust of the same kind as that in the urn."— Si/kcf Local Eccon.*, 
(2 vols. 8vo, 1833,) vol. ii. pp. 60 and 109.] 



MAAMION. 317 

out, he would not be surprised at such a discovery. Home was the 
chamberlain of the King, and his prime favourite ; he had much 
to lose (in fact did lose all) in consequence of James's death, and 
nothing earthly to gain by that event : but the retreat, or inactivi- 
ty, of the left wing, which he commanded, after defeating Sir Ed- 
mund Howard, and even the circumstance of his returning unhurt, 
and loaded with spoil, from so fatal a conflict, rendered the propa- 
gation of any calumny against him easy and acceptable. Other 
reports gave a still more romantic turn to the King's fate, and 
averred, that James, weary of greatness after the carnage among 
his nobles, had gone on a pilgrimage, to merit absolution for the 
death of his father, and the breach of his oath of amity to Henry. 
In particular, it was objected to the English, that they could never 
show the token of the iron belt ; which, however, he was likely 
enough to have laid aside on the day of battle, as encumbering his 
personal exertions. They produce a better evidence, the monarch's 
sword and dagger, which are still preserved in the Herald's College 
in London. Stowe has recorded a degrading story of the disgrace 
with which the remains of the unfortunate monarch were treated 
in his time. An unhewn column marks the spot where James fell, 
still called the King's Stone. 



Note 3 S. 

when fanatic Brook 

The fair Cathedral storm' d and took.—?. 249. 

This storm of Lichfield Cathedral, which had been garrisoned on 
the part of the King, took place in the Great Civil War. Lord 
Brook, who, with Sir John Gill, commanded the assailants, was 
shot with a musket-ball through the vizor of his helmet. The roy- 
alists remarked, that he was killed by a shot fired from St. Chad's 
Cathedral, and upon St. Chad's day, and received his death- wound 
in the very eye with which, he had said, he hoped to see the ruin 
of all the cathedrals in England. The magnificent church in ques- 
tion suffered cruelly upon this, and other occasions ; the principal 
spire being ruined by the fire of the besiegers. 



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